


Oblivion

by imhungry



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Also its a WW2 AU, Angela is a jewish medic, But literally i could not bring myself to write any of my kids out to be a Nazi, F/F, F/M, Fareeha is a soldier, It's 4 am and i am kinda dead inside, M/M, Pharmercy Centric Fic motherfuckers, anyway, btw all the fics i write are payback for all the times y'all hurt my feelings, choo-choo it's the angst train, fuck yeah, fucking lit my guy, i mean i got widowtracer on the side too i forgot to mention, its okay though, like the movie with james mcavoy, not really but im back on my bullshit reading them good ass angst fics, oh this was a tumblr prompt so yeah., with your goddamn angst, y'all seen atonement?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-17 04:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12357681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhungry/pseuds/imhungry
Summary: "A Pharmercy WWII AU-Where Angela a Jewish doctor working with the Resistance in Germany, and Fareeha an Egyptian soldier fighting for the Allies. They met when the war was at its most vicious point and fell in love, and were separated for a long while. They met again years after the war and rekindled their lost love." - nanoha-thankyouforbeingbornI'm just writing this because I love to procrastinate. :)





	1. Dirty Paws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angela doesn't roll up till chapter 2 but its still lit.

Dark eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of trouble. The ocean liner rocked gently and steadily as it cut through the cold waters of the Atlantic. The freezing cold night was ending, although she knew the morning would be equally harsh. She sat on a crate of ammunition, smoking a homemade cigarette. The tobacco nestled and wrapped tightly in the paper. She held it delicately in her fingers, a lifeline. Something to keep her anchored to the present. It had been months since she had gotten a good night’s sleep. The war had just begun and she had already lost things to it. People…

Fareeha Amari took a deep, long drag and puffed out the white smoke, watching as it floated up, up and away into the sky. She hadn’t planned on fighting in the war. She doubted anyone did. 1941 opened to a bloody and bitter total war. The world finally erupted into chaos two years earlier.  A second Great War had begun, pushing many people into the bloody conflict that was not of their own. There was never anything great about war. The thought of families being torn apart and people being killed over the disputes of bitter old men never did sit right with her. But it was her responsibility to protect the innocent. Her mother instilled that sense of duty in her when she was young. Her mother had fought in the first war, losing her eye at age 19, only months after being stationed at a hospital. A stray bullet claiming her eye. War had hardened her in the worst of ways.

This was not the life Ana Amari wanted for her daughter.

But when Hitler invaded one too many countries, the entire world went up finally decided to intervene. Fareeha’s sense of duty prevented her from watching millions lose their lives needlessly. Fareeha enlisted and shipped out the moment she could. It hurt Ana to watch her only daughter, the product of an affair with a Canadian private, walk out of their home in Egypt and into a cruel, cold world. Fareeha never looked back.

Now she was in a cruiser full of civilians in the middle of the ocean, en route to a new mission briefing with a new crew. She was given instructions to leave her squad and report to a dock just off the coast of Morocco. She was surprised to see Jesse McCree and a cruise ship waiting for her. The brass had decided to send their operatives on a non-combatant vessel was the best way to avoid any loss. Fareeha was tempted to remind them of how indiscriminate Nazi attacks were when it came to incoming ships. But she kept her mouth shut, she had to if she wanted to keep her station. She had quickly risen through the ranks, her outstanding record earning her the interest of the Egyptian government. There had been rumors about a new, multinational special operations team being formed by several countries to help fight the Nazis. The American, British, Mexicans, and French governments were sending soldiers to the new division. There was also rumor about a rogue German soldier joining them. The Egyptian military had sent her, one of their best soldiers, to represent their country in the new squad. Part of her was excited. Another part dreaded it. She wasn’t sure if she could stand to lose more teammates. It was bad enough losing the captain of her last team…

“Amari!” A voice startled her from her thoughts. It had come from somewhere above her. Her eyes scanned the dark ship until she found the source of it. She spotted a dark tall figure leaning on the second level railing. It was technically the third level on the ship, but she liked to avoid thinking about how easily the level below the deck could flood and sink the entire thing.

She took the last drag of her cigarette before putting it out on the sole of her boot.

“You smokin’ one of my cigarettes out here?” A scruffy bearded man called out to her.

“So, what if I am, Jesse?” She smiled. He had fought alongside her a few times. They had saved each other from death’s grasp enough times for her to call him her brother.

“If I find out you stole one of my rations, you’ll be scrubbing shit for two weeks, you hear me?”

Fareeha hopped off her crate, shaking her head. She had, in fact, stolen one of his tobacco rations, but only because she was too lazy to look for her own. The seasickness made her uncharacteristically lethargic. She made her way down along the ship towards the hull. Jesse McCree followed her from above until they met at the stairs that lead to the second level. He stood at the top, looking down at her. His calloused hands rested on his hips. He wore his usual cowboy attire, which she often scoffed at. Long gone were the days of the wild west, but Jesse McCree somehow managed to embody the feral mannerisms and chivalrous attitude of the times. Fareeha admired him.

“I don’t know why you wear that silly costume.” Fareeha shook her head, slowly climbing the steps on her unsteady legs.

Jesse shrugged. “They said to look like a civilian so here I am.”

She barked out a laugh, “A civilian, not a clown.”

“Oh, get that stick out your ass. You’re just jealous I’ve got better fashion sense than you.” Jesse smiled. His toothy, shit eating grin was something she couldn’t ever really get tired of. She preferred him smiling. He looked younger, less tired when he smiled. The weight of the lives he had taken in the name of war didn’t rest on him when he smiled. They walked toward the railing that overlooked the hull.

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night, McCree.” She gazed off into the distance, nothing but serene, still waters. The stars twinkled, bright and silvery, against the kaleidoscopic night sky. When she was younger, she loved the way the dark blues swirled and shimmered. The sky wasn’t just dark and black like a lot of people said. It was the sky that brought her comfort when she left her teary-eyed mother behind.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing jack shit for her seasickness.

 _‘If Allah wanted people on water,’_ She thought, ‘ _my ass would have gills and fins instead of lungs and legs.’_

“How have you been sleeping?” He asked. She looked at him and laughed.

“I can’t lie still or else I feel this damn boat rocking and then I feel sick again.”

“At least you don’t have a lady snoring in your ear every night. My cabinmate sounds like a goddamn bear.”

Fareeha smiled and shook her head, “I think I’d take that over seasickness any day.” She leaned on the railing, her elbows supporting her as she tried her hardest to find distraction in the sky, “Who did you get as a cabin mate?”

“Some Mexican girl,” Jesse mumbled. He sighed and mimicked Fareeha’s position.

“She cute?” Fareeha nudged him, smiling.

“She’s young. Barely looks 18.” He sighed. His response made her smile fade. They both hated when young people, kids, were sent to the jaws of death. At 23 years old, she wasn’t much older. But Jesse was 28 and already so tired of having kids dying in his arms. She wondered if perhaps that was the reason he protected her so fiercely. They had met just after the war began on the battlefield of the Saar Offensive. For nine, gory, grueling days, Jesse McCree and Fareeha Amari fought side by side. The experience solidified their bond. It was hard for them to leave the other when McCree had gotten assigned to another mission and she was transferred to her squad. They ran into each other then and again. For two years, they kept out of harm’s way. She hadn’t seen him in weeks until she got to Morocco.

Fareeha sighed too. “That’s too bad.”

“What the fuck are they thinking? Sending kids.” Anger crept into his voice. He pulled out a cigar, one of his last, from his pocket and jammed it into his mouth. His hands cradled the flame of a match and lit it, sighing as he breathed in. Fareeha looked at him expectantly. Jesse rolled his eyes and dug around his pocket until he found a cigarette. He reluctantly placed it in her waiting hand. She held it in her fingers before putting it in her mouth. She smiled, raising an eyebrow, waiting.

“Light your own damn cigarette.” He finally grumbled.

She chuckled, patting her pockets for her matchbook. Fareeha lit the end and took deep drag. She blew out the smoke and watched it dissolve in the clear, dark night.

“You know, those cigars will put you in an early grave, Jess.”

“What? Like the shit I’m breathing on the field won’t get my ass first?” He scoffed.

Fareeha shrugged, taking another drag. “Speaking of, where are they sending us?”

“Another hellhole probably. This boat we’re on is headed to jolly old London. They hit Mexico before this.”

Fareeha frowned, “Why are they doubling back? I mean why aren’t there separate ships for each country's soldiers?”

“No one can afford to spare boats. We’re all just carpooling”

“Carpooling?” Fareeha’s eyebrow cocked in confusion.

Jesse nodded, puffing out little clouds of smoke. “Yeah. We’re all piling in and catching a ride.”

“I’ve never heard of that. You’re just making shit up”

“I ain’t. It’s not my fault you ain’t in tune with the times.” Jesse laughed.

“Oh, shut up.” Fareeha rolled her eyes.

They finished their smokes in silence. Neither of them willing to admit to the anxiety in their stomachs. The sun was slowly beginning to rise, it’s rays painting the night sky with soft orange light.

“I think it’s time we get to sleep,” Jesse sighed, “Or at least I’ll sleep. You can do what you do.” He smiled.

“Your mom.” She mumbled. Jesse gave her a gentle pat on the back before descending to the level below. Their cabins were below deck, something Fareeha was unhappy about. Her claustrophobia made going under rather difficult. She just wasn’t meant to be on a boat.

She took one last look at the horizon before making her way to her cabin. Being a captain had its rewards and Fareeha wasn’t about to tell Jesse that she had gotten her own room and bathroom. She figured he would flip shit if he knew. It was, however, still small. The only things furnishing the room were a bed and a wardrobe, both of which were bolted to the floor. Her duffle bag had been thrown into the corner of the room. She hadn’t bothered unpacking what little she had with her. Taking care of her seasickness had taken priority.

Jesse’s comment about his young cabinmate came to mind. She crossed the room to where her duffle bag rested. She rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for.

Folders containing each agent’s service record. Jesse’s was thick and a little worn. Her own folder was a little more well-kept. She shuffled through the files until she saw the Mexican emblem displayed proudly on the cover. There were two others like it and she wondered to whom they belonged. Fareeha had received each agent’s file from the ship captain when she first set foot onto the vessel. She ran her fingers over the cover of the file and silently considered the repercussions of her actions. Taking a quick peek wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps it was healthy to break the rules occasionally. However, the festivities would have to wait until morning.

Fareeha kicked her boots off and settled onto her bed, sighing. Her eyes felt heavy. She thought of her mother, her old squad, and home.

Home.

She wasn’t sure if she would ever see it again. Fareeha wanted to go home. She regretted leaving things with her mother the way she had. Hurting her mother was never her intention. She missed her dearly.

Sleep’s gentle hand closed Fareeha’s heavy, tired eyes. Her last thoughts lingered on her mother and the smell of home. She dreamt of nothing, a merciful reprieve from her nightly montage of bloody flashbacks. At times, it seemed like her mind was the more formidable enemy.

* * *

The dock was bustling with noise. People shoving past each other. Soldiers on break or waiting for orders leaned against the grimy, grey walls of the concrete buildings. The sky was a cloudy, depressing grey. The smoke clogged the air with its grey tendrils.

Everything was grey and grimy and Fareeha felt a headache coming on from how hideous the city of London was.

They had arrived in the UK earlier in the afternoon and taken a small boat through the country until they reached the heart of London. Jesse had shaved his beard before leaving the ship, something he wasn’t happy with but the uniform required. They were all in their combat uniform, each a varying color and style of khaki. Fareeha liked to note the differences each country had tailored to the uniform.

“I forgot how ass ugly this shithole was,” Jesse grumbled. Fareeha’s face pulled into a small smile. It was nice knowing someone else hated it as much as she did. They kept walking down the busy streets of London. The black gravel-like muck crunched beneath their boots. Fareeha felt like crying. She had just polished her boots earlier that morning. Her feet were practically sinking into the earth.

“This place is overrated.” The girl with cinnamon skin and charcoal eyes trailing behind them said. Sombra. Fareeha had decided not to snoop around the agent’s file although her curiosity burned in the back of her mind. Sombra had introduced herself to the min the mess hall of the ship earlier that morning. Fareeha thought it strange that she used her callsign instead of her real name but she decided not to push for information. Privacy was to be respected while she was in charge. Fareeha opened her mouth to reply but Jesse’s gruff voice cut her off.

“We’re here.” He said, jutting his chin out to a decrepit building. Fareeha frowned in confusion. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she looked the two-story building over. The shattered windows were boarded up, rust adorned the hinges of the door, and the steps were covered with years of grime. It looked awful.

“Jesus, I thought they were sending us to a headquarters, not a haunted house,” Sombra mumbled.

“This is headquarters,” Jesse called over his shoulder to her. He turned back to the building, “And possibly the ugliest thing in all of London.”

“Well, let’s go then.” Fareeha sighed, brushing past Jesse to the entrance. She put a hand on the doorknob and turned it, surprised at how smooth it felt. She noticed some of the dirt on the door was ever so slightly wiped off. The shape of fingerprints it looked like.

 _‘Someone’s been here,’_ She thought as she stepped through the threshold.

 It was surprisingly clean. The musty smell still lingered but it was clear that someone had taken the time to clean it out. A couch was pushed against the wall. a table sat in the middle of what might have been a living room.

Jesse and Sombra came in behind her. Warily eyeing their surroundings.

She turned to face them, “Hey, I think this is a house. Someone lives here.” McCree looked around the room, nodding.

“I reckon you’re right.”

She was just about to ask Sombra for her opinion when she felt something hard and cold pressed against the base of her skull. Sombra went wide-eyed and Jesse had yet to notice, distracted by a noise just outside one of the windows. He jumped when the door slammed shut and the room went dark. Soldiers swarmed them, Fareeha heard the heavy clunking of boots on the hardwood floors. The lights flicked on and she saw they were at a disadvantage. She counted 3 opponents, hawkeyed and all with their guns trained on them. There was no way any of them could reach for their weapons in time. Not even Jesse was that fast.

“Fuck.” Jesse sighed. Fareeha empathized with the sentiment.

“Who are you?” A deep voice asked from behind her. Fareeha’s mind was going at a million miles a minute, trying to think of an escape plan when she heard a familiar voice coming from another room.

“Jack Morrison, if I walk out there and you’re holding a gun to my daughter’s head…” There was no need to finish the threat. The gun to her head was quickly withdrawn. The sound of guns being holstered and soft sighs filled the room just as Ana Amari came from what appeared to be the kitchen stirring a cup of tea. A warm smile framed by silver and raven black locks gave Fareeha the familiar feeling of comfort she didn’t realize she missed during the years she was gone from home.

“Ummi?!” Fareeha asked, surprised, confused, and relieved. Fareeha felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. Soldiers didn’t cry. She did, however, rush into her mother’s open arms. For the first time in years, Fareeha felt calm and safe. However, the feelings quickly melted away when she realized her mother was with her and so close to the front lines of what was being called the worst war in human history. She pulled away, her eyes widening in panic, “Wait, what are you doing here?? You can’t be here! It is too dangerous!”

Ana smiled and cupped Fareeha’s cheek with her free hand, “My little bird, it is never too dangerous to protect you.”

“As heartwarming as this is, do we have a mission or not?” Heads turned to Sombra. She tapped her foot impatiently from the corner of the room. Fareeha got a good look at the tall hulking man behind her. His bald head gleamed in the dim light. He boomed out a loud laugh, “I like this one, Gabriel.” Fareeha saw the soldier behind Jesse smirk.

“Are you so ready for the jaws of death, kid?” Jack Morrison spoke up behind Fareeha, startling her a little. She was a bit too jumpy for her liking these days.

Sombra smirked, “No, but I want to hurry up and get this war over with.”

Jack laughed, “This war is going to be over by the end of the year. Right, Akande?”

The bald man shrugged.

Jesse reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. “That’s not what we’re hearing. The Navy is getting their ass handed to them on the water and I have lost good people on land.” Fareeha noticed he smoked whenever he spoke about the war.

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond but movement and the sound a wood creaking in the corner of the room caused Fareeha to draw her pistol and aim it at the stairs next to the kitchen entrance. She had failed to notice them what with all the commotion from earlier. She kicked herself for missing such an important detail but waited in tense silence. Her mother’s hand gently rested on her shoulder. Ana mumbled in Arabic, hoping to coax Fareeha out of attack mode to no avail.

A slim, cat-like figure emerged from the shadows. “Good eye, Amari.” A woman walked down the rest of the stairs slowly, clearly wary of the gun trained on her. Fareeha relaxed a little until she saw the glint of a rifle in the woman’s hand. A gloved finger rested on the trigger and Fareeha’s grip on her pistol tightened.

Jack stepped in next to Fareeha. He placed a strong hand on the slide of Fareeha’s gun and forced her to lower it. “Stand down soldier.” He ordered quietly. Jack looked to the woman at the foot of the stairs sternly, “And you, Guillard. Don’t go provoking my soldiers.” The Guillard woman shrugged, giving him a lazy two finger salute. She looked almost bored, rolling her shoulders, and cracking her neck with one hand. “I checked the perimeter. Nothing to report.”

Akande’s eyes narrowed, “You failed to see these three stragglers walk in through the door, Amélie.”

Amélie smirked, “No, I didn’t. I saw them. I also saw their uniforms and recognized the tattoo under Amari’s eye.”

Fareeha instinctually reached up and touched her udjat with the tips of her fingers. She sometimes forgot it was there. Her mother had hers on the opposite eye. She remembers how angry her mother was when she came home with it one night. Still, Fareeha didn’t regret getting it.

Ana chuckled, “No one bothered to look these kids over before trying to shoot them?”

“Let’s start briefing them, yes?” Jack suggested, eager to change the subject. The man called Gabriel nodded and walked past Jesse.

They all made their way to the dining room. Ana, Gabriel, and the bald man sat around the table, Jack Morrison took his place at the front of the room. He cleared his throat to silence the quiet murmurs that were beginning to arise.

“Alright, kiddos. Time to get this shitshow on the road. You’re all here because the powers that be decided to try to end this war. This branch is top secret and if word gets out, we’ll have a bounty on our heads. This is Overwatch. I’m Commander Morrison. That’s Gabriel Reyes and Ana Amari. They’re going to oversee your units, which you will be sorted into momentarily. Blackwatch will handle all the action behind enemy lines. Espionage and other dangerous shit.

“Agents Akande Ogundimu, Amélie Guillard, Jesse McCree, and Sombra, you will all be in this Blackwatch unit. Headed by Reyes. The rest of yo-“

Sombra cut Morrison off with a frown on her face “I work better when I’m alone.”

Gabriel laughed, “You’ll alone, don't worry. You’re running point on the inside. The rest of us will act depending on whatever intel you give us.”

Sombra nodded, a faint smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Jack huffed, shaking his head, “Anyway. The rest of you are with Ana. Your CO’s will report to me and I will report to whatever asshole is above me.” He began sifting through the files he had on the table before him. Jack paused before glancing at Fareeha. “Captain Amari, I’ll need the files the contact gave you.”

 “Yes, sir.” Fareeha dropped to the floor and dug through her duffle bag. She had shoved her civilian clothes haphazardly in the morning, an action that she was kicking herself for now. All eyes were on her. She sighed in relief when she finally felt the worn paper on her fingertips. She yanked them out, five folders in total and handed them to Jack. He thumbed through Jesse’s and Fareeha’s quickly, satisfied all the necessary documents were there. A faint shadow of surprise fell over his face when he got to the last folder. Sombra. The soldier the Mexican government had sent. Quiet murmurs broke out in the room, the soldiers craning their necks and furrowing their eyebrows when they saw Sombra’s file. Nearly her entire file had been redacted, black ink covering everything except her callsign, age, and country of origin. Fareeha wasn’t sure what unsettled her more, the fact that everything was inked out, or the fact that the two extra files belonged to Sombra. She wondered how someone so young could already have that much paper in her jacket.

_Unless…_

“Did you lie about your age?” Fareeha stopped and turned to face Sombra, who was picking at the dirt caked under her nails with a knife. A grin spread on her face as she sheathed her knife and reached down. Sombra lifted her foot and yanked off her boot in one swift motion. She tossed Fareeha her shoe. “Look inside.”

A small, faded 18 was scribbled where her heel rested while she wore her boot “I was _over_ 18 when I enlisted.” She replied with a Cheshire grin. No one noticed McCree making a beeline for her.

He yanked her up by the collar of her shirt and pulled her close enough that he could smell the empanadas she had eaten earlier on her breath. “Are you fucking crazy? How old are you?”

Everyone stood stock still. Fareeha saw Ana and Akande make eye contact. A silent agreement to separate the agents should things take a turn for the worse.

Sombra didn’t lose her grin. Fareeha felt conflicted at feeling admiration at the strength this Sombra girl had. Few could stay so smug under McCree’s cold death glare.

And yet.

“Jess-” Fareeha began, but she was interrupted.

“My file says I’m 18, no?” Her smile grew impossibly wider. It struck Fareeha how blasé Sombra was. There wasn’t a trace of fear on her face.

McCree looked back at Fareeha incredulously, “This fuckin’ ki-,” He turned back to Sombra, “How old are you?!” The frustration was beginning to show in the way he was trembling with boiling anger. Fareeha knew why. McCree didn’t have much of a choice in serving. It was either the military or prison for him. He had been rotting away for nearly 12 years before the government came to him and offered him a choice. Life or death. He chose to serve, not really thinking about the damage it would do. His first battle had given him scars in the worst way. And here was this kid, this child, who had willingly lied and joined the war when she didn’t have to.

“Listen, you aren’t my commanding officer. Let go of me or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

Gabriel took a step forward.

“With what gun, little girl?” Jesse growled.

Sombra smiled. “The one I have pressed to your side, right where your lung is.”

“Wha-?” Jesse and everyone else looked down to see Sombra pressing the muzzle of Jesse’s own gun into him. Gabriel and Akande laughed quietly, Ana and Jack looked impressed at the stealth Sombra had. They were all so distracted they didn’t even see her make a move. He released her roughly, nearly shoving her away. She simply smiled and handed him his gun back.

“Now then. I am 18 now. I was just shy of my 16th when I joined. We were well into the war when my commanding officer put two and two together. By then I had already turned 18 so there wasn’t shit he could do about it. My service record is fantastic, to say the least and let’s just say no one can do what I do as well as I do in the time I do it.” Sombra fixed her uniform, frowning at the wrinkles Jesse’s fists left behind.

“And what do you do?” Fareeha asked, wary of the girl before her.

Sombra threw her head back and laughed. Gabriel chuckled lightly, “She’s a spy. One of the best. We’re lucky to have her on our side.”

“Are we done here? I’m hungry.” Sombra tapped her foot again.

“Not quite. I still have to assign everyone else t-“

Gabriel interrupted, “Whoever wasn’t in Blackwatch is in Ana’s squad. Officially, you’ll be working to ‘find diplomatic solutions’,” he said with air quotes, “Unofficially, you’ll be backing up the other spec ops, going places where official government teams can’t. Or wherever they happen to need your skills.”

Jack looked less than happy about Gabriel stealing his thunder.

“Just y’all three? That’s a tiny ass squad, Commander Morrison.” Jesse looked concerned.

This time, Ana spoke up, “We had a Russian soldier here yesterday. Aleksandra Zaryanova. Built like a tank that woman. We sent her out to recruit a medic since Gabby seems to have forgotten to enlist a healer for his Blackwatch unit.” She gave a flustered Gabriel a stern look.

He shrugged and smiled sheepishly, “I forgot. It happens.”

Jack cleared his throat, “Well if you guys are done doing my job for me, let’s go feed Agent Sombra before she chews Guillard’s nails too.”

Amélie inched away from Sombra who was hellbent on chewing off a jagged hangnail from her thumb. They all chuckled. Sombra looked a little ashamed before she started walking to the kitchen. Everyone else followed suit and began to file from the dining room. Idle conversation broke out between agents. Fareeha pulled her mom in for a side hug, happy to be reunited again. There was peace for a moment.

Until the front door swung open and a body crashed face first onto the floor. Everyone jumped into action and formed a semi-circle. They cocked and trained their guns on the intruder.

“Bloody hell.” Wild, windswept, brown hair framed a pale, freckled feminine face. Wild brown eyes stared down the barrels of eight guns. The girl slowly put her hands up in surrender. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple.

Akande’s long muscled arm pushed the door shut with a loud bang. Fareeha thought it was amazing no one reacted to the loud noise. Jesse and Sombra moved silently to block the stranger’s exit. Fareeha felt amusement tug at the corners of her mouth. They had just been at each other’s throats and now they were moving as a team. Funny how things worked out. Ana’s gruff voice pulled her out of her reverie. “What is your business here?”

The girl on the floor chuckled nervously, “Depends on who’s askin’, love.” She spoke with a thick Cockney accent.

Amélie stepped forward and pressed her rifle to the girl’s temple. “I have no issue with painting the floor with the inside of your pretty little head, _cherié_.”

The girl gulped and began to speak with a shaky voice, “Lena Oxton, assigned to British Intelligence out of the Royal Air Force. Seria-“

“Oh, the pilot! Finally. We were expecting you yesterday.” Gabriel holstered his gun and helped Lena to her feet. She chuckled nervously, her eyes never leaving Amélie’s watchful gaze.

“I got shot down on my way back from the front. Go figure. Not a scratch while I’m fighting but the second I’m close to home, I get clipped. Had to pay a smuggler to get me back across the channel. It’s getting’ worse out there.” She fixed her uniform. Khakis and her brown pilot’s jacket. Fareeha could see there was a white cotton shirt beneath it.

“You’re with Ana Amari’s unit, Oxton.” Jack patted her on the back. Lena nodded, determination in her eyes.

Confusion passed over Sombra’s face, “If you were waiting on a pilot, why did you try and shoot her? Don’t you have pictures of everyone? I mean, you didn’t have ours but don’t you have her file at least?”

Jack shook his head, “We never got Oxton’s files because they bombed her home office in London. The brass gave me a call at 0300 yesterday morning letting me know I would have a British pilot on my team at some point. Morons didn’t think to mention a name.”

Sombra hummed. Fareeha looked at her curiously, the earlier interaction between her and Jesse coming to mind.

“Why did you enlist when you didn’t have to?” She asked quietly. She didn’t want another outburst from Jesse.

A beat passed.

“You wouldn’t understand it.” Sombra finally replied and walked away, disappearing into the kitchen.

An hour later, spoons clinked against the ceramic and tin bowls of soup everyone had. They sat crammed on the kitchen floor, leaning against the cabinets lining the room. Jesse sat against the door frame. Ana and Fareeha side by side. Amélie situated herself cross-legged on the counter with Lena below her. Akande stood in the corner quietly. Gabriel and Sombra were the only ones sitting in actual chairs they had pulled from the dining room. They had managed to cook some sort of chicken soup with a vegetable medley. A Mexican recipe. Sombra had pulled out ingredients to make tortillas from her bag, leaving Jesse wondering what it was she carried around in that duffle of hers.

They had chosen their callsigns while dinner was being made, inspired by Sombra's. Jesse wouldn't decide on one, saying he would die regardless of what they called him. Fareeha rolled her eyes, wondering why it was he couldn't just go along with things sometimes. She had fun choosing hers.  _Pharah_. It sounded powerful. She felt bolder just thinking about it.  _Tracer, Widowmaker, Doomfist, Reaper._ They all sounded intimidating. except for Jack Morrison's. He had picked a word and a number out of a hat and got Soldier 76. He shrugged and kept it, deciding it sounded good enough for an old soldier like him. An odd thing to say seeing as he was just barely beginning to show streaks of silver in his already light blonde hair.

Fareeha enjoyed the hand-made tortillas with chicken soup. A meal almost as much as the story being told. Everyone listened intently to Lena’s story about flying over the war zone and getting shot down. Her parachute got caught in some high branches and she hung from the trees for two days. Death in the form of a German patrol passed beneath her on the first day. They made camp below her, forcing her to play dead. One of the soldiers had noticed her but they didn’t deem the discovery important enough to announce to their comrades. Lena thanked her lucky stars. On the second day, she was awoken by a firefight between the patrol and some resistance fighters smuggling people across the border. After the patrol retreated, resistance hot on their heels, the refugees helped her down from her tree and sent her on her merry way.

“When I got to the beach, see, no one could get any ships past those Nazi subs. We were all stranded and I couldn’t get a plane. But I bribed some chap called Chief, lovely lad, and he got me across safely. It’s good to be home. I missed it.” Lena smiled brightly, “It’s just as gorgeous as I remember.”

Amélie scoffed, “This city is hideous.”

Lena scowled up at her, “London is a lovely place with lovely people, mate. We’ve got the bravest soldiers out there.,” She smirked before mumbling, “From what I hear, the French army is the only army with tanned armpits, you surrender so often. No one is as strong as a Brit.”

Amélie’s expression soured and she shot Lena a death glare that rivaled Jesse’s.

Ana hummed into her cup of tea, interrupting what probably would have been the start of another war zone, “I want you to say that to the Russian that left yesterday.” Fareeha wondered when she got up to make another cup or if she was still drinking the same cup from hours ago.

Jack sighed, “We all have brave people out there, strong in their own way. Religion, skin, skin color, it doesn’t matter. A bullet and a bomb kills everyone no matter who they are.”

A somber silence fell over them. Fareeha took a long drink from her glass of water.

Sombra stood abruptly and belched loud enough to pull a look of horror from Jesse. Fareeha burst into laughter, water spraying all over Lena’s face and Amélie’s legs. They had the misfortune of sitting across from her. Both women looked equally disgusted. However, Lena broke out into a smile after a moment.

“Damn, Jesse. I-I think she can out-belch you.” Fareeha wheezed out between giggles. Ana handed Fareeha a handkerchief to wipe the water off her chin.

“She can out-belch a fucking bear,” Jesse mumbled. He too stood, having polished off his meal almost as soon as it was served.

Jack also stood and cleared his throat, “Alright. I’m glad we had this time to bond but I think it’s best we clean up and go to sleep soon.”

“Why?” Lena asked. Fareeha sighed, she knew why.

Akande inhaled deeply, “Because we have our first assignment tomorrow.”

Fareeha tossed and turned that night, anticipation tormenting her until the early hours of the morning when it came time for her to relieve Amélie from her shift on watch.

“Did you sleep?” Amélie asked.

Fareeha shrugged, “Not much. Maybe twenty minutes.”

“Your friend McCree, he fights in his sleep. I heard him screaming.” Amélie said quietly. Fareeha stayed silent. She knew Jesse relived the battles he fought, she did too. But they never really spoke of it. it was easier to ignore that way.

“Do you have any family?” Fareeha blurted the first question that came to mind. She closed her eyes, regret painting her features when she was met with silence.

“I don’t. My parents died before the war began,” Amélie paused,

“I am glad they did.”

Fareeha was taken aback, “Why?”

Amélie smiled sadly, “Because I have no one else to lose now.”

Her words would ring in Fareeha’s ears in the year that followed. Mission after mission, she would think back to those words, to her last night of peace before she dove headfirst back into the hellish, turbulent waters of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title brought to you by,  
> Of Monsters and Men- [Dirty Paws](https://youtu.be/CAfS2s-v9WI)


	2. Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huehuehue
> 
> I struggled on this one, i aint gonna lie. but also, peep that extra 2 chapters i added. it might increase or decrease depending on where this goes but please enjoy.
> 
> I'm thinkning of doing a livestream Q&A on twitch sometimes soon, thoughts on that? You guys can ask about Anchored or Oblivion and i'll answer. You know. Idk is it a good idea? LMK

The radio quietly crackled in and out as a hand carefully turned the dial, desperately trying to get a good signal.

_“…Wainwright surrenders last troo-… -apanese General Masaharu Homma… -approximately 12,000 prisone-“_

Lena’s hand slammed down on the radio, frustration etched onto her grimy forehead. It had been days since either of them had taken a good shower. Fareeha was positive she looked just as dirty as Lena did. Their faces and necks were caked in blood and dirt. Lena’s helmet had a long rip running along the side where a shot just barely missed her head. Fareeha remembered the sickening sound of the metal tearing as the bullet whizzed past.

“Bollocks!” She huffed before flicking the radio off completely. Fareeha was secretly thankful. The radio static and high-pitched sounds set her teeth on edge. She was already tense enough. Spending 4 days in the French trenches did her soul very little good.

The sound of mortars and bombs exploding in the distance drifted through the air. Fareeha clutched her gun to herself a little tighter. She hadn’t seen or heard from the Blackwatch crew for well over a year since they first landed in London except once during the holiday season. They had regrouped for about a week during Christmas. Even Sombra came and they enjoyed hot meals and good company. Supposedly, their missions had intersected but Fareeha had a feeling Jack and Gabriel gave them the holiday as a break from the death and destruction. But when they scattered again, it became radio silence once more. The last she heard, Sombra was deep undercover. The Axis powers had taken a liking to her, firmly believing she was a double agent on their team. The Nazis had offered Mexico a place among them and a chance to regain lands stolen by the United States. However, the Mexican government had refused and took up arms against them. Sombra posed as a disgruntled Mexican intelligence officer, feeding the Nazis Mexico’s most supposedly intimate secrets. Fareeha worried for her. She worried for all of them. In truth, she didn’t really expect to live past the winter of 1941 and she wasn’t sure she would make it through the summer of 1942. She missed the warm July breezes of Egypt. Nothing like the miserable weather France had. Fear gripped her like a vice. She had spent the day trading fire with the Germans sitting about 200 feet away. She had splinters in her face and a deep, bloody gash on her arm caused by the shrapnel that went flying after a soldier with a live grenade was shot down near her. He didn’t have time to throw it before a bullet burrowed itself into his neck. Fareeha couldn’t even tell which blood spatters were hers anymore. The firefight had stopped as soon as night fell but neither side was stupid enough to let their guard down. She watched dutifully from the gaps between the barbed wire posts on the edge of the trench top. Ana and Jack had gone ahead to their next mission checkpoint a day earlier. Something about it being a stealth mission. Fareeha was slightly offended her mother didn’t deem her covert enough to take her along but in a sense, she understood. Akande had given her words of wisdom before he left.

_“If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”_

Fareeha wanted her mother back as soon as possible. Jack too. She found him to be a good leader, an almost father figure to her and Lena. Lena who was one of the best pilots Fareeha had ever seen. There had been times when Fareeha watched helplessly from the ground as Lena fought off two, sometimes three enemy planes single handedly. She wasn’t sure if it was bravery or recklessness in the way Lena would flip and spin in the air. Perhaps a mixture of both. Fareeha felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned to face the young man who would be taking over her shift on watch. She mumbled a word of thanks and sat down on a nearby chair, deciding to at least try to take advantage of the quiet and relax.

“Amari! Oxton! Telegram for you!” A courier called to them. Fareeha nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his loud voice.

Lena scrambled up from her spot beside her radio. “I’ve got it.”

Fareeha grunted in acknowledgement. Lena ducked, careful not to stand too tall lest she fall victim to a German sniper, and scurried after the courier. Fareeha closed her eyes, resting her head on the wall of dirt behind her. The cold metal of her helmet dug into the back her neck. She resisted the urge to take a deep breath, missing the smell of clean, fresh air. Last February, on the boat, had she known it would be her last time breathing clean air, she would have treasured her time at sea a little more. Since she joined Jack’s new taskforce, it seemed like they were being sent to every hellhole in the war. Bunkers, trenches, even destroyed villages smelled of disease. The stale scents of sweat, excrement, urine, blood, ash, and fire clogged the air along with a cacophony of screams. War was awful and there were days when she questioned why she had enlisted in the first place. Who was she dying for? What was she fighting for? Who was so important that a young boy had to die a brutal death so that they could live?

What was the point?

She felt something rub against her leg and she looked down to see an orange tabby nudging its head on her shin. She smiled and reached to pet its soft little head. Green eyes looked up at her and closed slowly. The cats in the trenches were meant to hunt the rats and other vermin, but they proved to be happy companions for the soldiers, weary and worn from loss. Fareeha felt a paw on her thigh and looked over to find yet another kitty, this one black with white little feet and golden eyes.

“My, my. What brave little warriors we have here.” She cooed. Fareeha pet them both, reveling in the way they purred and melted at her fingertips. She slid down from her chair and sat cross-legged, allowing both cats to curl up in her lap. The night was cold and she was more than happy to keep them warm and safe for a night. Her eyelids began to feel heavy, the cats softly purring lulling her into a tranquility she hadn’t felt in months. She began to nod off, eventually accepting her body’s pleas for rest, albeit reluctantly. She gently scooped the cats up and placed them on the ground next to her, taking off her pack and helmet. Fareeha enjoyed the feeling of freedom as her muscles adjusted to the lack of weight on her shoulders. She unclipped her rolled up blanket from the top of her pack unrolling it with a swift snap. The cats jumped at the sound, their hackles raising and eyes darting, searching for danger.

“You too, huh?” She smiled sadly, the knowledge that even the animals were affected by the war weighing on her. She lay on her back, rifle by her side and at the ready. The blanket wasn’t all that comfortable, but it was warm.  It took a while before two sets of bony little paws walked on her abdomen and chest. The orange one decided to loaf beside her head, resting its chin on her neck, purring. The black and white one settled for sleeping with its back to her ribs. Their body heat invited the feeling of security. Fareeha knew it was foolish, but she began to think of names for the babies sleeping on her. She wracked her brain for names worthy of the cats keeping their food stores safe. Ana’s stories about the Egyptian gods of times past came to mind.

 _‘Set. The orange one is Set. The other one is Nephthys.’_ She nodded, satisfied with the names. If she lived through the war, she would definitely get some cats. Maybe even these…

She shook the thought from her head, not wanting to raise her hopes about these cats living long lives. Not with of the possibility of these innocent babies not making it to the end of the war looming overhead. Humans didn’t deserve such innocent creatures. A lump in her throat formed. Hot tears began to roll out of the corners pf her eyes slowly.

“Fareeha, love? Are you alright?” Lena’s voice cut into the relatively quiet night. Fareeha dared not move out of fear of disturbing her sleeping guests.

“I’m fine. I have a terrible allergy to dander.” Fareeha lied. Her voice was surprisingly steady.

“Oh, I’ll kick them off then.” Lena moved to shoo the cats but Fareeha raised her leg, which made the blanket fly off her lower body. The sudden movement made Lena stop in her tracks.

“Let them sleep.”

Lena smiled and tiptoed to the dirt wall opposite of Fareeha, sliding down with a sigh. She leaned forward and fixed the blanket over Fareeha’s leg.

“So, what did they want?” Fareeha asked in a hushed whisper.

“Turns out Mum and Dad are taking a detour to Germany. You and I are supposed to regroup with that Russian lady from forever ago. Then meet up with them somewhere in the middle.”

“Did she ever find a medic for the Blackwatch unit?” Fareeha felt Set raise his head, disturbed by the vibrations coming from her voice box. She watched as he rearranged himself, deciding to rest his head on her shoulder instead.

“Oh, yes. Some chap called Zenyatta. I forgot if that was his first or last name but apparently, he’s some bee’s knees monk healer from the mountains. Said he couldn’t stand by and watch the world burn.”

Fareeha hummed. She turned her head ever so slightly, carefully not to disturb the orange ball next to her head. “So where are we headed?”

Lena scratched the back of her neck, a nervous tick Fareeha noticed. A beat passed and she kept quiet.

“Lena?”

“We’re going behind enemy lines. Off to Poland.”

“Poland? Why?”

Another neck scratch. Fareeha wondered if it wasn’t just the dirt and grime they had on their bodies making Lena itch.

“You see, mate. McCree and them went on mission to blow up some tracks on account of Sombra giving them information about the Nazi’s settin’ up shop and bringing supplies in. What they ain’t account for was that these Nazi dogs have the Jews working on the railways. So, they held off the attack but Zaryanova got caught sneaking children out of the ghettos. She was counting on Reyes and them to provide a distraction.

“Except the attack never happened.”

Fareeha’s anxiety made her want to chew her nails off, but she refrained from doing so, “And?”

Dread painted Lena’s face, her eyes fearful of what was to come, “And well, Amélie shot Zaryanova cause Amélie went back to kill an intelligence officer that knows about Sombra being a plant. On the way, she saw Zaryanova shielding the kids with her body and saw pistols being aimed. So, she pulled the trigger and I mean, the Germans left her for dead on the street for the cleanup crew. Idiots just saw her drop and carried on.”

The way that Lena picked at her nails told Fareeha that wasn’t the end of the story. “But?” She prompted.

Lena sighed, “But now we don’t know where Zaryanova went because our contact on the cleanup crew said they didn’t find a body and now you and I have to find her and bring her back with us.”

Fareeha groaned loudly, “Fuck.”

“Word has it she’s in the nearby ghetto. That’s where they’re keeping the Jews and some other groups.”

They stayed quiet both unsure of what to say.

“How do you know all this?” Fareeha tried to meet Lena’s gaze. But her brown eyes looked at everything else but her.

“Well, me and Amélie been writing letters.” Lena wet her lips. Fareeha noticed how carefully she treaded.

“Letters?”

“Official business. Nothing more.”

Fareeha sighed. She knew what letters were being exchanged. She heard them quietly talking the night they rendezvoused back in London for Christmas. The hushed voices never louder than a whisper. In the morning, when the units went their separate ways, both women looked reluctant to leave the other. Fareeha knew then. Her suspicions were confirmed during breakfast on their last day when their touches lingered a little too long, gazes a little too deep. Fareeha noticed it with Gabriel and Jack as well, but she kept her mouth shut.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Fareeha gave Lena a small smile, determined to let her know their secret was safe. It was a shame that two brave women would get medals for who they killed but get imprisoned for who they loved.

Lena looked relieved and a little more relaxed.

“What’s she like? I never really spoke with her.” Fareeha asked, curious to know what a love like theirs felt like. She knew she shared similar inclinations when it came to who she shared her bed with. Her heart always raced a little too quickly when the nurses would check on her during physicals.

A dopey grin crossed Lena’s face, wiping years and hardship off her face. She looked 20 years old again. “She’s exquisite. You know she didn’t like me when we first met at HQ? Couldn’t stand how chipper I was she said. Funny, innit? I started writing letters to her after Christmas. That’s when she fell for my charming ways.”

Fareeha laughed at the silly grin on Lena’s face.

“But in all honesty, I think I’ve always loved that woman. Drives me mad half the time but I don’t think I remember what life was like before her. I don’t think I want to imagine it.”

Lena babbled on well into the night and into the early hours of the morning. She spoke of Amélie like she was talking about a deity, reverence and respect dripping from her words. Christmas came and went and they continued to speak, careful about the letters they wrote to the other, never mentioning names.

Miles and miles of bloody, ravaged earth separated them, but they managed to fall for each other regardless. Fareeha couldn’t think of anything more beautiful than that.

She listened intently as Lena spoke, but her mind was running at a thousand miles an hour, trying to think of a word for her two comrades. Nothing was profound enough to describe them.

“Sometimes, I want to give up, you know. There’s days I don’t see the point in fighting. But then I think of her and I fight harder,” Lena took a deep breath, “I have to do everything I can to get home to my Amélie.”

“And you will, Lena. I will protect the innocent. I will protect you too.” Fareeha gave her another smile. Lena smiled back before taking her helmet and pack off, preparing her makeshift bed just as Fareeha had.

It wasn’t until Fareeha was teetering on the edge of the dream world that she thought of a word for Amélie and Lena. Her mind drifted into a deep sleep as she murmured it out.

“Soulmates.”

In the morning, Fareeha gave her cats a tin of her ration spam each, petting them goodbye and trying her hardest not to look back. Her heart broke when they cried for her to come back, their meows echoing in her ears louder than the bombs exploding nearby.

* * *

They sky hung low and grey, the threat of rain imminent. Lena tugged at the collar of the grey uniform, discomfort clear on her face. “Oi, Fareeha, if I get shot, peel this off me. I’m not dying in this damned thing.”

Fareeha nodded, “Understood.”

They watched intently the ghetto from the tree line with refined focus. Lena, who could never sit still for the life of her, was for once as unmoving as a corpse. They had finally arrived near Warsaw after a week of turbulent travelling, several close calls with death, and bad water. On their way to the ghetto, they found a stray Nazi officer looting someone’s home. Lena flew into a rage upon seeing it and put an end to his life. They stripped him of his uniform and left him there in the open. It was more than he deserved in Fareeha’s opinion. Lena cooked up the idea of wearing the uniform now that they were getting closer to civilian territory. A way to deter questions and unnecessary trouble.

“How are we going to get in?

“I’m thinking.” Fareeha murmured.

“I’ve got it. Give me your gun and your pack. Helmet too.” Lena said after a beat. Fareeha did so and watched as Lena hid her things beneath the nearby brambles.

“Keep my gun,” Fareeha called out, “We might need it.”

Lena nodded and tucked Fareeha’s gun into her boot. Lena walked and motioned for Fareeha to turn. She pulled the handcuffs out of her back pocket and smiled apologetically as she gently secured Fareeha’s wrists behind her back. When Fareeha turned to face her again, she huffed, “Listen mate, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for wha-” Fareeha started but Lena’s hard fist colliding with her face cut her off. She saw stars and a blinding white light. The ground under her feet disappeared. Fareeha was flat on her back, dizzy.

“Bloody hell, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.” Lena rushed forward and knelt over Fareeha, gently cradling her head between her hands. Fareeha felt something warm and gooey slipping out from her mouth. She moved to wipe away what she thought was drool from her face. Except when her hand pulled away, she saw a familiar crimson staining her fingers. “Well, now you look more like a prisoner than a fraud.”

“That is one hell of a punch, Oxton.” Fareeha wanted to laugh but her lip was screaming in pain, making her speech less intelligible than normal.

“It’s already swelling, mate.” Lena wiped some of the blood from Fareeha’s cheek. Lena stood and helped Fareeha to her feet. “Look, we’re going further down the road. Then turning back and walking up to the gates. At least a mile down. It’s fishy if we come out any closer.”

“Let’s go then.”

They walked.

Except they didn’t make it more than a quarter mile before a cargo truck came rumbling towards them. Its top canvas fluttering in the wind. Lena began to mumble curses, her movements becoming slightly frantic.

“Calm down. You’re no use to me if you panic.”” Fareeha said quietly, “Grab my arm.”

Lena took a deep breath before straightening out and roughly grabbing a fistful of Fareeha’s jacket. The truck’s breaks squealed in protest as it rumbled to a stop before them. Fareeha heard the driver’s door slam. Rapid German reached her ears and she caught a glimpse of white hair before a boot slammed into the back of her leg. Fareeha was on her knees in an instant and Lena’s hand roughly pushed her head down. Black boots covered in a fine layer of dust came into her peripheral vision. The driver sounded old, his voice deep and gravelly.

The driver spoke again and this time, Lena responded in perfect German, which took Fareeha aback. It never occurred to ask how many languages Lena spoke.

They talked for about 5 minutes before Fareeha’s eyes were obscured by a black cloth. She gasped in surprise when she felt herself being yanked to her feet by a massive hand that was most definitely _not_ Lena’s. The hand guided her forward before holding her at a stop, presumably behind the truck.

 _He must be a giant,_ she thought as she heard the truck’s back being opened and she was thrown in, landing on her side like a sack of potatoes. The panel behind her slammed shut. The truck seemed to hit every bump in the road as she lay on the cold hard metal of the truck bed. After a few minutes, the roaring of the engine was cut off and she heard some more German being exchanged by the driver and the guards at the gate.

It was then that she heard the quiet breathing above her. She shimmied toward the side of the truck but was instead met with hard lumps in her back. Her fingers explored and felt the tips of what she suspected to be military boots.

The truck roared to life and began to roll once more. She took deep, calming breaths, realizing her panic was beginning to get the best of her. She couldn’t escape and leave Lena by herself. She gave up trying to figure out what or who it was digging into her back.

Another screeching halt before she was pulled up and out of the truck. Fareeha was forced to kneel as the other occupants of the truck were unloaded. Someone was shoved next to her. A man by the sound of his breathing.

Familiar breathing.

The wind blew and Fareeha caught the familiar scent of cigarettes and leather. Fareeha leaned into the man trying to catch a better whiff of him but Lena’s voice cut through the air, deeper than normal. She faked a heavy German accent as she barked at them in English. She was hardly recognizable.

“Get up, scum!” She roared in Fareeha’s ear. Lena shoved her through what might have been the threshold of a door. The air was heavy with the smell of potatoes being baked and another scent. Quite possibly…

_Antiseptic?_

“Move!” Lena ordered. Fareeha collided with a wall, her lip tearing open again. A grunt escaped her lips. The sound of more footsteps filled the room. Lena’s foot slammed into the back of her leg again and she buckled to her knees. Fareeha felt Lena lean down and whisper in her ear.

“Key,” She said. Something small and cold dropped into Fareeha’s open palm. She quickly closed her hand and waited for the right time.

She waited for what felt like an eternity. The sound of several pairs of feet shuffling on what sounded like the hardwood, a woman crying cut through the tense silence. The door of wherever they had just entered slammed shut and the man began to speak in German once more, Lena engaging in eager conversation with him. Fareeha made quick work of the handcuffs, slipping them up to the knuckles of her right hand and tightening them. Makeshift metal knuckles, a technique Jesse had taught her long ago. She listened intently, trying to gauge where the man was standing when she heard a door open and another voice join the conversation. A feminine voice, light and airy. Fareeha could hear the worry and exhaustion in this new woman’s voice. Unfortunately, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound heavy footsteps coming toward her. The man, Fareeha assumed, was coming straight for her.

Her mother taught her how to fight when she was a little girl. One of Fareeha’s most treasured memories was the one about her first fight, which she lost against a boy far older and stronger than she. She didn’t even remember why she fought, all she remembered was the searing pain of a black eye, a broken nose, and a jammed finger. Her mother had yelled at her for her recklessness when she came home that night. _“I taught you to defend yourself not so that you could go off fighting on a whim,”_ It wasn’t until the next morning that Ana’s eyes softened and cupped Fareeha’s small face.

 _“Always remember two things, my little bird_ ,” She had said, _“Remember that I am proud of you. And remember, never throw the first punch unless you know you will win.”_

Fareeha’s heart was in her throat as she flew to her feet, not bothering to take her blindfold off, and blindly threw the first punch.

The wet sound of metal hitting flesh and a body hitting the floor gave Fareeha the confidence to launch another attack, but the sound of a gun cocking gave her pause. She yanked her blindfold down and saw a large burly man on the ground, his hat next to his head. Blood spatter and a tooth was on the floor next to him. A mane of white hair slicked back framed his face, which had a gnarly scar running down from his forehead to his cheek. One eye was as blue and deep as the ocean while the other was a milky, unseeing, white. Standing over him, with a gun trained on him, was Lena Oxton. Another woman in a black coat was standing opposite of Lena, a look of absolute shock and fear on her face. For a moment, Fareeha was mesmerized by the woman’s beauty, golden locks, and deep blue eyes. Milky white skin. Fareeha thought she looked like an angel. But the adrenaline running through her veins brought her back to the scene before her.

“Wait! No! I am on your side!” The man pleaded, raising his hands in surrender. Lena gave him a swift kick to the ribs.

Fareeha reached for her own gun sticking out from Lena’s boot. “We sho-”

“STOP!” The blonde woman threw herself over the gigantic man’s body protectively. Fareeha’s eyebrows raised in surprise then knit together in anger. She raised her gun, aiming it at the woman’s arm. She saw Lena step forward out of the corner of her eye.

“Move.” Lena growled, moving closer to press the gun to the woman’s forehead.

Tears began to form in the woman’s eyes. “Please. This is a good man.”

Something about the woman made Fareeha lower her guard. “Lena, wait.” She spoke softly, but her words were ignored.

Lena snarled out a reply, reverting to her usual Cockney accent, “The only good Nazi is a dead one. I ain’t above shootin’ that pretty face, love.” She cocked her gun against the woman’s head and the woman closed her eyes, her final words in a language that sounded familiar to Fareeha’s ears.

_Hebrew._

“Oxton! Stand down!” One of the prisoners behind Fareeha barked.

The women turned their heads and saw the familiar figures of Gabriel Reyes, Jesse McCree, and Amélie Guillard among the prisoners, kneeling and blindfolded. They had donned civilian clothes, their hands secured behind their backs.

“Amé?” Lena’s eyes were wide and unbelieving. She made a beeline to her beloved and gently pulled the blindfold down. “Amélie.” She said her name like a prayer. For a moment, she was calm. Then her face twisted in rage and she rushed to the woman, roughly pulling her up with the strength of ten men and tossing her to the side like a rag doll.  Lena yanked the man up by his collar, hitting him with the butt of her gun. A gash opened on the side of his head. blood trickled out and Lena raised her fest for another blow. “You bastard! Did you hurt her?! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you like the dog you are!”

“Lena,” Fareeha said in a low tone. Her stomach was a ball of nerves. Lena was a wild card when she flew into her fits of rage. She was preparing to tackle Lena when she heard it.

“ _Cherié,_ ” Amélie’s soft voice called out to Lena, firm and desperate. Pleading, “ _Cherié,_ I am fine. These people are not our enemy. Please.”

Lena’s wild, chocolate eyes met Amélie’s tranquil, honey ones and like magic, her grip on the man lessened and her raised gun slowly lowered until it was on the ground. Fareeha’s grip on her gun was beginning to lessen when she heard Amélie yell.

“Wait!”

It came too late and a blinding pain bloomed from the back of Fareeha’s head. The room began to spin and flicker as she felt her brain roughly knock about in her skull. She collapsed onto the ground. Head pounding. A different woman stood over her, one she hadn’t even heard come through the mysterious door behind her. She felt her gun being kicked from her hand.

 _That must be where the other lady came through,_ Fareeha’s muddled mind reasoned.

“Zaryanova,” Gabriel began, “Stand down.”

“Dr. Ziegler, Is everything alright?” Zarya asked, completely disregarding her commanding officer.

Fareeha tried to stand, but her body and her mind were completely uncoordinated. She felt herself slowly start to lean to the side and she stumbled a few steps before collapsing. Gentle hands caught her before her head hit the ground again.

“Yes, Miss Zarya. I am fine. This was a misunderstanding.” The blonde woman spoke, her voice still shaking from the rush of emotions. She helped Fareeha sit up.

In the meantime, Lena had made herself busy uncuffing her teammates and the other ten or so people. Some of them reached up to Lena, hugging and giving her teary-eyed words of thanks in their language. Mothers hugged their children close as they were being freed. It was a beautiful and remarkable sight, one of hope.

But Lena only had eyes for Amélie. She and Amélie sat on the floor, holding each other tightly before they realized how suspicious it looked. Reluctance dulled the happiness in their eyes as they pulled away. But Jesse and Gabriel hadn’t even been paying attention to them. They both sighed in relief when they ripped their blindfolds off and saw Lena hadn’t killed the man. But Gabriel’s brows furrowed in concern when they saw he wasn’t moving.

“Christ on a bike, Oxton. You really did a number on poor Reinhardt.” Jesse scratched his eyebrow. A mix of awe and fear of Lena’s darker side on his face. A grin spread across his face when his eyes landed on Fareeha’s dazed expression, “And what happened to you, ugly?”

“I had to punch her,” mumbled Lena, watching as Gabriel knelt over Reinhardt and checked for a pulse, “How did you get a Nazi to side with you?”

Jesse opened his mouth to respond but Gabriel cut him off.

“There is no time to sit and talk. Ally or not, we can’t have a dead officer in the middle of a ghetto. Now then, I need McCree, Zarya, and Oxton to secure the area. Guillard, secure the perimeter from above. I don’t want anyone stumbling in here by accident.”

Amélie nodded. She looked pained to be robbed of the chance to properly be with Lena, but she snapped into action regardless. Fareeha watched in wonder as she lifted one of the floorboards and pulled out McCree’s revolver, her own rifle, and Gabriel’s guns. She handed each agent their weapons as they filed past her.

Fareeha made note to ask about how the guns found their way there later, after the little man in her skull stopped slamming his sledgehammer against her head. Lena and Jesse walked out the door, their heads down. Zarya followed suit.

“What do I need to do, doctor?” Gabriel asked.

“I need you to get Reinhardt upstairs. I think she can walk.” Dr. Ziegler replied.

“Just give me a moment,” Fareeha pressed her palms against her temples.

“In the meantime, Angela, let’s get Reinhardt upstairs on one of the cots.” Gabriel tried his best to lift the massive man onto his back. He struggled, his face reddening with the strain. Some of the women huddled in the corner began to giggle at him. They stepped forward and helped him, counting down in Polish before they lifted him with ease. They held his legs and feet while Gabriel held his head and shoulders.

He thanked them, struggling to open the door Fareeha had been wondering about. One of the children opened it for him, revealing a set of stairs. He clambered up the stairs as Fareeha and Angela watched in mild amusement. For all his talent in strategizing and leading, Gabriel Reyes was a mess when it came time to use his head for the little things.

Fareeha glanced at the doctor next to her, whose eyes were already examining the cut on her lip.

“I’m sorry,” Fareeha said quietly. Angela nodded. Her eyes looked sad for a moment.

“I am Doctor Angela Ziegler.”

“Captain Fareeha Amari.”

“Captain?” Angela looked confused. “I thought Reyes was captain.”

“Oh, he is. He’s captain of another team. And I am a captain bu-” Fareeha cut herself off, “It’s a long story.” She paused again, “I’m really sorry we attacked you. We didn’t know.”

Angela sighed, “I forgive you. It isn’t the first time I have had a gun in my face. I know it will not be the last.”

Rapid heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs pulled their attention to Reyes, sweaty and panting from the effort of carrying Reinhardt.

“Doctor, I need you upstairs.”

Angela nodded and stood. “It was lovely meeting you, Captain.”

“Likewise, doctor.” Fareeha didn’t trust her legs to hold her if she stood. She settled on giving Angela a small smile and wave. Her heart began to beat a little faster when Angela smiled back before making her way up the stairs.

“Amari, I need everyone in the kitchen when they return. I’ll send Guillard down in a bit.” He sighed. “We have to talk.” 

* * *

 

They sat around the rectangular dining room table, a familiar setting. On one side, McCree had his feet on Fareeha’s lap. Angela had taken a seat next to Fareeha, something that made Fareeha’s heart beat a little faster than usual. On the other, Zaryanova sat with her incredibly muscular arms crossed. Amélie and Lena sat side by side, shoulders nearly touching. At the end of the table sat a groggy Reinhardt, his eye swollen and the stitches above his eyebrow protected by a patch of gauze secured by adhesive strips. Gabriel stood at the head of the table, his expression hard.

“I know, this year hasn’t been the easiest. Communication between Blackwatch and Jack’s team hasn’t been the best and before I begin, does anyone have any questions?”

Lena raised her hand.

“Oxton?”

She cleared her throat, “Uh, yeah mate. What the actual fuck?”

“Lena,” Gabriel’s voice dropped in warning.

“No, Cap. Listen. First you ship me and Fareeha off to the ass end of the planet with Jack and Ana. Then they run off to our next checkpoint without a word, which was odd. Then no one tells us about your Nazi friend here and we nearly kill the good doctor here. Why are we being kept out of the loop like this?”

Fareeha hummed in approval. In truth, the radio silence had in fact been bothering her but she never thought to question it. After all, the mission was far more important than the man.

Right?

Reyes sighed, scratching his chin before rubbing his face with both hands. There was something about his reaction that didn’t sit right with Fareeha. But Reinhardt’s rough voice pulled her attention before she could question Gabriel’s silence

“I was drafted into this war. Given the rank of officer because of my service in the first war. But I never agreed with Hitler and his pack of rabid beasts. I used my rank to help Jews escape. I try so hard to save them all but there are times when I do not get there in time.” Reinhardt’s blue eyes were solemn, “I swore I would help the resistance in whatever ways I could. Your operative, Sombra, introduced me to your commander Morrison.” His eyes met Fareeha’s, “He and your mother were here not too long ago. I helped them hide the weapons. I recognized the mark under your eye when I saw you and Lena on the road.”

Fareeha frowned, “Why was my mother here?” She looked at Reyes with fire in her eyes, “Reyes, why was my mother here?”

He took a deep breath, his face blank, “Two months ago, Sombra reported in as usual. It was different this time. She told us she had a feeling they were onto her. Guillard had taken out the officer that was going to blow the whistle on Sombra. Unfortunately, it has been 2 weeks since she was supposed to report and we haven’t heard from her.”

“What does that have to do with my mother, Reyes?” Fareeha felt a ball of lead settling in her stomach. Whatever words were going to fall from Reyes’ mouth were words she hoped to never hear.

He avoided her gaze, exhaling loudly, and closing his eyes. As if that would make things easier. “Jack and Ana went to Germany to extract Sombra.”

“And?”

“And we think they may have been captured. The three of them.”

Fareeha’s ears were ringing. Jesse’s words were muffled next to her. She hardly noticed the cold gentle hand on her hand until Angela gave it a squeeze. Fareeha looked at her, hearing nothing but seeing Angela’s lips moving.

“…-aptain? Are you alright?”

“What are you doing to save my mother?” Angela’s concern completely flew over Fareeha’s head. Her focus solely on Reyes.

“Akande and the healer are going to meet up with some of Sombra’s contacts from Australia. From there, we are scheduled to pick up two operatives,” Reyes took another breath, “We are getting them back.”

“How soon can we leave?” Jesse asked.

“Not anytime soon.” Angela replied, her soft voice almost apologetic, “Reinhardt has a cracked rib. He needs to heal before he can move.”

“I say we leave him behind then.” Lena mumbled, “I’ll pass as an officer, my German is just fine.”

“You don’t have the clearance papers Reinhardt has or the intimate knowledge, Oxton.”

“Oi, but I can’t just sit here and wait for Ana and Jack to be killed.”

“We can’t leave regardless of Reinhardt’s injuries. This place is swarming with SS officers and they have secret police within the population. We have to wait for the right time.” Amélie mumbled.

“Damn the right time!” Lena slammed her fist on the table, “I can’t sit on my arse and let them die like their lives mean nothing!”

“And I can’t just send my soldiers out on suicide missions! I swore I would get you all home!” Gabriel yelled back. He huffed, “If it were up to me, I would have you all shoot your way out of this ghetto and into Germany to go save them. But Jack made me swear if anything happened to him that I wouldn’t put the mission over your lives. We are staying until Akande gets back. That’s final.”

* * *

Two nights after the briefing, Fareeha sat on the roof, smoking a cigarette Reinhardt had given her. She apologized to him like she had Angela. His booming laugh reassured her that bygones were bygones. There was kindness in his eyes that made her wonder what he could have been had the war not cut into his life, again.

They had spent the days strategizing and talking logistics. Fareeha spent a little too much time finding excuses to talk to Angela. There was something alluring about her. Perhaps it was the sweet laugh Angela had, or perhaps the beautiful blue eyes that sent Fareeha’s head swimming. She was attracted to her, there was no doubt about it. But the way Jesse and Angela laughed together gave her an inkling that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Except there were times when Angela laughed a little too hard at a dumb joke she would crack or a prank she would play on Jesse. Sometimes her fingers would rest on Fareeha’s arm a little longer than necessary when she thanked Fareeha for helping out with caring for the children in the house. She could have sworn she saw something akin to admiration flash through Angela’s eyes when she saw Fareeha playing hide and go seek with the kids.

Perhaps it was all in her imagination.

She shuddered as the wind blew. The thin, white, cotton shirt she wore didn’t help her much against the cold breeze. She had left her jacket with the rest of her things at the edge of the tree line, a decision she kicked herself for now as she shivered. The sky here was thick with smoke from the nearby factories. She couldn’t breathe without the stink in the air filling her chest. Fareeha didn’t know how Amélie could stand to lay for days on end out under the open sky with the horrid smell and weather. Fareeha admired her for her talent. She wondered about the life Amélie could have led.

Her mind wandered deep into the night, circling around that ‘what ifs’.

“May I join you?”

Fareeha turned, her gaze immediately being drawn to the kind, clear, blue eyes Angela had. “Yes, of course. Be careful though. It’s slippery.”

Angela nodded and carefully began to climb out from the window. She wrapped her thick, brown jacket around her body a little tighter the moment she felt the cold breeze blowing. Fareeha could practically see the gears in her head turning, calculating her next step. Unfortunately, she missed her step and slipped. A yelp escaped her mouth as Fareeha watched her foot lose its place among the shingles. Fareeha’s strong hands shot out and grabbed Angela’s arm, pulling her close before she could fall off the roof completely. Their faces were close enough that Fareeha could see the small flecks of green in Angela’s eyes. She smiled shyly before letting go of Angela. This time, Angela took better care of her steps as she settled down next to Fareeha.

“How are you holding up?” Angela asked, staring out into the night. Fareeha swallowed. Part of her wanted to tell the truth, but another wanted to keep up the façade of being an unfazed soldier.

“I’ll feel better once they’re out of danger.”

Angela hummed. Fareeha snuffed out her cigarette on the sole of her boot. They sat in silence before Fareeha finally got the nerve to speak.

“How are you a doctor? You look so young and…” Fareeha trailed off.

“And I’m a woman?” Angela laughed, and Fareeha’s heart boomed in her chest as loud as the bombs in the field.

“I-I don’t mean to offend.” Fareeha stammered, carefully rearranging herself to face Angela, “I just never see female doctors. Always nurses.”

Angela smiled at her, amused, “Yes. Well. That’s a complicated and rather long story.”

“I like stories. I have all night if you want to tell me.” Fareeha grinned, hoping to come off as smooth as Jesse did whenever he flirted.

She giggled, tucking her legs to her chin. “What kind of stories?”

Fareeha shrugged, a shy smile dancing on her lips, “Mythology usually. My mother used to read to me when I was younger.”

“My father and my mother would take turns reading me the medical dictionary before bed.” Angela sighed.

“Where are they now?” Fareeha knew asking was a mistake the moment the words left her mouth.

Angela’s eyes grew misty, tears threatening to cascade at any moment. “I’m not a doctor, officially. I never finished the program. I was on holiday visiting my parents in Germany when the war broke out. My family moved there because my father got a job offer. But I stayed behind in Switzerland, which is where my family is originally from, to go to school. My father knew the headmaster because they fought together in the first war. So, the headmaster let me study at his academy.”

She picked at a loose shingle between them. “The laws didn’t let me leave the country, even if they did, I wouldn’t have gone. They had moved my family into one of the nearby ghettos.  But that’s when the Nazis started going from house to house at all hours of the day and taking people. I was on my way home from the ration market when a soldier pulled me into an alley next to the apartment we were staying in. Reinhardt. He had known my parents and recognized me from the pictures they had around the house.

“I watched as my mother and father were dragged across the street and into the back of a cargo truck. I begged Reinhardt to let me go but he wouldn’t. I started screaming and he put his hand over my mouth. I remember I bit him but he wouldn’t let me go until the soldiers had gone.” She took a shaky breath

Something warm trickled down Fareeha’s cheek. She touched two fingers to her face and realized they were tears. She was crying with Angela.

“Why are you crying, captain?”

“I’m not.” Fareeha quickly wiped away her rogue tears and pulled Angela into a hug, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” She felt Angela start to slowly release the sobs she had been holding in. Fareeha’s shirt began to darken as Angela’s tears and snot began to soak into it. They sat like that for a few minutes, Fareeha gently rubbing circles on Angela’s back and whispering soft words of comfort. Some in English, some in Arabic.

It was peaceful until another breeze made Fareeha’s teeth chatter. Her wet shoulder did nothing to help the shivers she did her best to suppress.  Angela pulled away, looking up at Fareeha in alarm.

“I just realized you don’t have a jacket on.” She wiped her tears away with her palms.

Fareeha laughed, “It’s fine. I left my coat hidden just outside the gates yesterday before sneaking in.”

“Here.” Angela began to quickly take off her coat and threw it over Fareeha’s shoulders, “You’ll catch your death out here.”

Fareeha cocked her head, “What about you? That sweater can’t be as warm as this.”

Angela glanced at her dark blue knit sweater, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, exposing her slightly muscled forearms. Fareeha’s gay ass started blushing.

“I guess I’ll have to keep warm with you then.” Angela smiled, her sadness melting into a playful and flirty demeanor.

Fareeha didn’t trust herself to speak and nodded, opening her arms so that Angela could snuggle up to her. Angela tucked herself under Fareeha’s arm, her own arms snaked around Fareeha’s torso, fingers interlocking and pulling Fareeha closer. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

They spent a few more moments in silence before Angela asked Fareeha for a story.

“What do you want to know?”

Angela hummed, tapping a finger to her chin, “Tell me about your favorite memory.”

“Um. I don’t know. I don’t think I remember life before…” Fareeha gestured to the scene before them, “Before this. You know?”

Angela pulled away slightly, her gaze wandering Fareeha’s face before landing on the tattoo below her eye. A light blush colored Fareeha’s cheek when her eyes met Angela’s. They both giggled, Fareeha a bit more nervously than Angela.

“Tell me about your tattoo.” Angela said as she settled back to her spot under Fareeha’s arm. She seemed to enjoy the rumbling in Fareeha’s chest as her laughter filled the air.

“Oh, my mother wanted to murder me the night I came home with it. One of my friends, Saleh, did it for me. We were all drunk off our asses. He used some ink and a stick. I remember I almost cried, it hurt so much. All things considered, I think he did a very good job, for a drunk. I know I was drunk too but I’m glad drunk me got the tattoo.”

“How come?” Angela asked, nuzzling her nose against Fareeha’s collarbone.

Fareeha lost her train of thought at the contact.  Angela chuckled at Fareeha’s reaction, “I’m sorry. My nose got cold. I left my scarf inside,” She paused, “Does it bother you?”

“N-no. Not at all.” Fareeha cleared her throat, “Anyway. I’m glad I got the tattoo because If I was sober, I probably would never have gotten it.”

“What does it mean?” Angela’s lips brushed against Fareeha’s shirt. But Fareeha was determined to stay focused on her story.

“Well my mother has a similar one under her other eye. It’s a symbol of protection. I wanted to honor her because she’s such a big influence in my life and who I grew up to be.” Fareeha chuckled, remembering the surprise and anger on Ana’s face, “But mom wasn’t as thrilled. She fought in the first war too. It changed her. She didn’t want that life for me.”

“Do you regret it? Joining?” Angela sounded like she was falling asleep. Not that Fareeha minded. She looked down in time to see Angela’s eyes close with the weight of sleep. They had just met but Fareeha felt a connection to her, real or imagined. It felt like the start of something new, which gave life to thousands of butterflies in Fareeha’s stomach. She thought about it for a long time. Long enough for Angela to fall asleep. Fareeha’s eyes traced over Angela’s soft features. She was asleep but Fareeha answered regardless and with all the honesty in her bones,

“Not at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hellaclassyfabandsassy](http://hellaclassyfabandsassy.tumblr.com)
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> Christina Perri- [Arms](https://youtu.be/V1WOxi_j6xU)


	3. Wise Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need you to trust me

He was grateful for the hot coffee in his tin cup. He had never liked the stuff before the war. In fact, he didn’t even like it now. But it kept him awake and alert and that was worth the bitter taste it left on his lips.

Sombra had sent nothing more than a date, time, and coordinates before she disappeared. Jack had been the one to tell him what they were before he and Ana also went missing. Akande Ogundimu liked to think he was a practical man, one of patience. However, he had been waiting for nearly an hour for a pair of recruits to show.

His patience was wearing thin. Sighing, he leaned against the ruins of a brick wall that was once a part of a school. France had been bombed to ashes and it was apparent, the Allies were losing hope. He listened as the airplanes droned past them overhead.

“How are you?” Zenyatta asked him. The metal cooking utensils dangling from his pack clanked against each other, a sound Akande rather enjoyed. It reminded him of home, of the meals his mother would cook for him just before his sparing matches. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to remember the sights, the smells, the sounds of home.

But all he could remember was the sounds of war, the screams, the smell of burning flesh, the sight of teenagers lying motionless on the ground before him.

“I haven’t the patience for tardiness.” He rumbled. His feet ached, but he refused to sit. Tired eyes watched Zenyatta slowly slide down the wall, sitting cross-legged with a loud sigh. Akande frowned, his feet ached terribly. He took a sip of coffee.

 _Perhaps a few moments of rest wouldn’t be so bad_.

He dropped to a squat before leaning his back against the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him. A small amount of coffee splashed onto his knuckles. He held back a hiss of pain.

“It feels like it will never end.” Zenyatta mused quietly.

Akande nodded, “I think this is just what we needed. What humanity needed.” He studied the dark liquid, the reflection of the grey sky rippled with his soft exhale.

Zenyatta frowned, “I am afraid I do not take your meaning.”

They looked at each other, both men incredibly weary from their journey and the fighting. The war was taking bits and pieces of themselves.

But Akande had felt the war coming. The tensions that rose with the blame. It was high time for humanity to fight it out. To become strong.

“Think about it. When have you ever seen nations putting aside their own petty differences besides during times of war? People understand nothing but death and violence. During times of peace, they do nothing but dig themselves into holes. Countries go into debt without their people knowing why.

“But during war? Oh, suddenly, Suddenly the Americans love their foreign brothers. Suddenly women are worthy enough to take the jobs denied to them for so long. Suddenly those they deemed unworthy to live with dignity, with basic human rights, suddenly, they are essential to their countries.” He shifted, this time, keeping a careful eye on his coffee. He faced Zenyatta who looked at him with a mix of horror and caution, “War is the only time I have ever seen people embrace each other regardless of their differences.”

Zenyatta considered his words for a moment before clearing his throat.

“I believe humanity can grow without violence. People grow. We stumble, we fall. But we rise. We rise against the odds. People rage against their circumstances. Loss, sorrow, anger, these things happen naturally. There is enough misery in the world without us inflicting pain on each other. Without the violence of pompous old men waging war from afar.

“With what you and I have seen, children, on both sides, dead at our feet, how can you say this is what is necessary? How many nights have we listened to people crying for their mothers as they took their final breath?”

Akande chuckled, “Then why have you come to fight? I know you left the safety of the mountains for this hell. If you are so against war, why have you come to fight in it?”

Zenyatta sighed, leaning his head against the crumbling wall and looking up to the sky, “Because I cannot stand by in my ivory tower when people are being marched to their deaths. Not when children are being gassed or innocent people being bombed while they sleep in their beds. I know I will pay for the lives I have taken. But I could not just sit and watch the world burn.”

They both sat in silence for a moment. Akande opened his mouth to speak but the crunching of rubble and gravel pulled their attention to a large tank rolling their way. A tank with the enemy colors painted on its turret.

“Fuck.”

They both scrambled for cover, Akande dropped his cup of coffee in favor of pulling out a stick grenade and his pistol. Zenyatta was armed with a rifle, his hands trembling. Akande pitied him just as much as he admired him. There was a nobility in fighting despite being gripped by fear.

He inhaled and exhaled as he threw the grenade at the oncoming tank. It landed a few feet off its mark and exploded. The tank creaked to a stop and Akande trained his gun at the hatch. The hinges screamed as it was opened at he immediately began to fire two shots.

A woman’s voice yelled from inside the tank.

“Captain Ogundimu!”

Akande and Zenyatta looked at each other for a moment, equally confused.

“Who is asking?” He replied.

A pair of small hands slowly rose into the air from the open hatch in surrender.

“Hana Song, sir!”

Then another voice spoke, “And Mei-Ling Zhou!”

“Why are you late, Song?” Akande lowered his gun and nudged at Zenyatta to do the same.

Hana’s hands were still in the air, “There was some trouble getting this tank, sir!”

“Come out, both of you!”

Slowly, a small body emerged from the hatch and took Akande by surprise. Even from afar, he could tell she was young. Almost too young. She looked to be twenty years old at most. Yet, she arrived in a tank, a vehicle that was incredibly hard to pilot.

Hana hopped down onto the hull and dropped to the ground with practiced ease. His eyes flitted back to the hatch, where another woman emerged. Her thick-rimmed glasses caught her attention. That was something he rarely saw on the battlefield. Good eyesight was imperative to stay alive.

He approached them with caution, being out in the open was rarely anything but trouble. His eyes scanned his surroundings, watching for any sign of the enemy. The planes’ buzzing seemed to be moving further and further away from them, a good sign.

Mei dropped down next to Hana, who was picking dirt and grease from beneath her fingernails. Hana gave a lazy, two fingered salute while Mei bowed. Zenyatta returned the gesture and a smile broke out on Mei’s face.

“What trouble were you talking about?”

Hana sighed and began to speak, her hands waving animatedly, “This isn’t our tank. Obviously. We sort of stole it from the Nazi’s hangar a few kilometers from here. But they managed to clip our tail with a grenade. I got her as far as away as I could while Mei returned fire. She took out a whole squad out with a mine. Really put them on ice.” Hana patted the tank with her right hand, “But she broke down about a mile away from the hangar. I’m a mechanic and Mei is an engineer. We sat and fixed her up as best we could.”

“How do you know how to pilot a tank? If I may ask.” Zenyatta’s eyes were wide with wonder. Akande looked back at Hana.

“It’s not hard. It’s sort of like a car with a gun and a few more buttons.” Hana flashed a cocky grin. Akande immediately took a liking to her air of confidence. Although he worried perhaps she was too confident. He turned his attention back to Mei.

“I used to build them.” Mei spoke quietly, a soft smile on her face, “But I wanted to do more than fight. There was a group of us like that at home. We left, and things were going well. For a while at least. Except something went terribly wrong. We were ambushed.” Mei took a breath, “I was the only one who survived, and they took me captive. I met Hana in the prisoner’s camp. Your Agent Sombra found us and she had us on put on a transport where a man named Reinhardt gave us some uniforms and set us free with a time and place to meet someone.”

“Why did you want to fight?” He asked. Mei seemed like a genuinely sweet person. If he believed in people being good or bad, he might describe her to be the best of people. Akande couldn’t suss out what would drive a person with such a happy aura to fight in such a gruesome war.

Mei smiled like it was the most obvious thing on the planet, “Because this world is worth fighting for.”

Zenyatta covered a chuckle with a cough beside him.

“I’m just here because I have nothing to do.” Hana sighed, her attention going back to her nails.

“What were you doing that got you captured?” Zenyatta smiled in amusement.

“I was at the wrong place at the wrong time,” Hana replied simply.

Akande wanted to know more but the popping sound of gunshots were beginning to ring out uncomfortably close to them. The planes were no longer near them, but he didn’t want to risk it. He looked forlornly at his tin cup laying in the dirt and began to walk back towards it.

“Let’s move out. We have places to be.” He heard the crunching of their steps as they followed him wordlessly.

He made a noise of disgust when he picked up his cup, only to find dirt and mud made by the coffee splattered onto it. Sighing, he wiped it off with his sleeve and moved to take off his pack when a bone chilling cackle rang through the air.

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

Everyone dove and ducked behind the wall Zenyatta and Akande had been waiting by earlier and covered their heads.

A bomb went off and Akande’s ears began to ring. He felt clumps of dirt and rocks rain down on his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to keep dirt out of his eyes.

He felt himself being roughly pulled up by the back of his shirt and he reacted, pulling a knife out of its scabbard on his belt. He tried to look at the face of the man holding him captive, but a gas mask hid his assailant’s identity.

_I refuse to die today._

The knife felt like an extension of him and his blood began to pump wildly as the adrenaline rushed through his veins. He took a swing at the Goliath of a person in front of him. The man holding him swatted his attack away like it was nothing more than an annoying bee on a summer afternoon.

He felt the cold metal of a gun press against the soft spot under his chin and he froze. His eyes strained as they tried to look at the owner of the gun.

“Alright, mate. That’s enough from you.”

The accent was Australian as far as he could tell.

“We’re lookin’ for a capt’n. Dunno his name but you lot are sittin’ right where he should be. With a Nazi vehicle no less.”

Akande’s eyes burned from the smell of singed hair and burnt clothes. This guy hadn’t showered in quite a while it seemed. He cleared his throat and raised his hands in surrender. “I am Captain Ogundimu. M-“

“Put him down Roadie! This is our guy!” The smaller screeched in glee.

The one called Roadie dropped him, literally, and discomfort shot through his leg when his feet made contact with the ground.

“I’m Jamison Fawkes. This’ere is my mate Mako Rutledge. You can call us Junkrat and Roadhog.”

“I’ll call you fucking morons for blowing up my tank!” Hana yelled behind them. Akande turned to look at the flaming wreckage that used to be the tank they were going to roll out in.

“That was a Nazi tank we saved you from, little Sheila!” Junkrat yelled back. He whooped and punched Roadhog, who didn’t seem to feel the blow.

“There was no one in it, you absolute fucki-” Hana broke out into a string of what Akande assumed to be curses in her native language. Mei wrinkled her nose and sighed in disappointment.

“Never mind the tank. Who sent you? Morrison only mentioned these two.”

“No one sent us. I known Sombra and she saved m’arse a ton, so I think it’s time I returned the favor.” Junkrat leaned in and snarled, “We’re going to save her and blow up some Nazi’s.”

Akande pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did you even hear about Sombra’s disappearance?”

“That is CONFIDENTIAL information, mate.” Junkrat’s voice raised a few pitches above normal when he put emphasis on his words, “Sombra told us not to tell anyone we were blowing things up and giving you and your lot explosives.”

Roadhog sighed and shook his head. it took a moment before Junkrat realized his slip and clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Whatever. Let’s move out.” Akande gave the command. Part of him wondered if Sombra running operations on the side counted as treason, but drawing attention to that would mean losing a really great asset. Sombra’s work is what allowed their team to cripple the Nazis the way they had.

“How are we going to ‘Move out’ when this moron blew up our wheels?” Hana abruptly pulled him out of his head.

He blinked, realizing they couldn’t simply walk to Poland. His brain caught up with him thankfully. “There is an outpost not far from here. We’ll double back and get supplies.”

“Do they have tanks?” Hana asked hopefully.

Akande shook his head. “It’ll take too much fuel to drive it from the outpost to the rendezvous in Poland.”

“Let me worry about fuel.”

There was a fire that Akande admired about the girl, but hubris had brought an end to many great fighters throughout the course of the war. Still, he was curious to see what she could do.

\--

They arrived at nightfall, the darkness providing a decent cover for them while they hid in the tree line, watching the guarded gate. The trip took a few days longer than expected. His stomach was twisted in knots, the quiet doing nothing to ease his anxiety. Akande wondered if they arrived too late to save them. He knew it was Gabe’s plan to infiltrate the ghetto. _“No place safer than the lion’s den.”_ He had said. Except Akande knew it was only a matter of time before this particular lion decided to pounce.

The sound of a body hitting the hard ground made him jump and pull his gun out, immediately aiming for the source of the sound.

“Fuckin’” Junkrat peeled himself off the ground and glared at a lump on the ground. He picked it up and brushed away the dirt that had caked on it. It was a pack with a helmet tied to it. “It says Amari, Cap’n.”

“Is that not the woman we are looking for?” Zenyatta piped in from behind Akande.

“No. Ana Amari disappeared somewhere in Berlin. This must be her daughter’s pack.”

The warbled shouting of soldiers and commanders barking orders tore through the silence. Dogs began to bark behind the wall and bullets rang out into the night.

“Fuck!” Akande grabbed the pack from Junkrat as he ran back to their vehicles. Their footfalls thundered at the same pace as his heart as they ran through the forest. They had parked in a clearing not too far from the road. Hana whizzed past him like a bullet from a gun and she climbed onto her tank, yanking the hatch open. Her dog tags swung from her neck as she dropped down into the tank. Mei followed suit.

“Everyone on Song! Fire at will! Junkrat! Clear a path when we get there!” Akande rushed into his cargo truck, hitting his head on the doorframe. He mumbled a curse, knowing it would hurt like hell once the adrenaline wore off. He jammed the key into the ignition and revved the engine, speeding off towards his comrades. Hana overtook his vehicle and took point. Akande felt a smile of amusement pull at the corners of his mouth as he watched Junkrat maniacally begin to laugh as he pulled the pins from several grenades.

They were a few feet away from the entrance when a hail of bullets rained down on them. Akande worried for Junkrat who had suddenly disappeared. Hana’s tank took most of the damage, but a bullet ricocheted and popped one of his wheels.

There were several loud bangs and then the sound of rubble crashing down to the ground. Junkrat’s maniacal laughter eased some of Akande’s anxiety.

He screeched to a halt and jumped out of the truck, immediately taking cover behind Hana’s tank as she charged forward. From the inside he heard her say “Eat this!” Before a deafening boom left his ears ringing. The bullets stopped flying at them, but he could still hear the enemy and their dogs barking somewhere near them. He could also hear women and children screaming as the gunshots popped in the streets.

Akande felt something take over him. There was a rush of power flowing through his veins and he took off towards the fight. He rounded the corner and immediately slammed into a soldier aiming a gun at a woman shielding a little girl. A mother and child. Rage bubbled in his chest, but his face remained neutral. He rushed at the soldier, his fist cracked his ribs and he relished in screams of pain. The body collapsed and Doomfist slammed his foot down onto the soldier’s chest. There was a sickening crunch as the life left him. A bullet embedded itself into the wall next to him and he whirled around to face a man pointing a gun at him. He slapped the gun away with ease and uppercut the man. His knuckles felt right at home underneath the man’s chin. He went flying back, a spray of blood platted onto Doomfist’s face. The man rolled on the ground, groaning, and curling into himself. Doomfist felt no pity.

There should never be sympathy for Nazi scum.

Doomfist pulled out his pistol out of the holster and shot the man, the animal, through the head.

“And they said chivalry is dead.”

He walked away, completely forgetting the woman and child. In the back of his mind, he registered the sound of their rapid footsteps fading into the night. The adrenaline was still rushing through his body. The sight before him would have taken his breath away any other time but instead, it gave him an odd sense of pleasure. Of boldness. His bloodlust was at an all-time high.

Gabriel Reyes was shot bullet after bullet at the horde of Nazis coming at them from behind the cover of rubble and cargo vehicles. A pile of bodies lay at his feet, scattered and forming a macabre barrier between he and the enemy. He could see Reyes’ face bleeding with an assortment of cuts, bits of shrapnel still embedded on his face. Jesse McCree stood beside Reyes, firing his revolver like the actors did in the old Westerns. A lit cigar hung from his lips and bits of ash and embers fell from it with every movement McCree made.

He caught a glimpse of Amari’s daughter firing off shots as she used her body shield a blonde woman he hadn’t seen before. The blonde was ushering people into the backs of cargo vans, shouting words in what he assumed was German. A truck pulled out and sped off around the corner and into the night.

Zaryanova and Guillard were nowhere to be seen. Akande began to wonder if something happened to them. Except an enemy soldier noticed his presence and began to fire at him. He fired back, darting forward towards his team, and nearly colliding with McCree who was busy puffing out smoke and reloading his weapon with practiced ease and speed.

“Howdy there.” He smiled as if they were on a picnic, with not a care in the world.

“Took you long enough,” Reyes cut in before Akande could respond. His eyes were cold and flat. Different, “Where are your reinforcements?”

“They’re securing the gate.” He replied simply.

Time slowed for a moment before things erupted into a deafening chaos.

Akande heard the unmistakable sound of Junkrat’s voice, “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” his blood ran cold. He knew what that meant.

Jesse, who had stood to fire back, immediately crouched back down, his face frozen in shock. The earth trembled beneath them as the enemy’s makeshift barricade was blown to smithereens. Rubble and ash rained down on them.

His eyes squeezed shut and his mouth was agape in a silent scream as he held his hands over his ears.

They began to ring again.

He didn’t hear a Nazi stepping close to them. He didn’t hear the gun clicking as it was aimed at Jesse McCree’s head.

Akande’s hearing recovered just enough to hear the heavy breathing above him. He snarled and reached for his own gun. A part of him knew he wouldn’t reach his weapon in time to save McCree’s life but he had to try and at least save his and Reyes’ lives. The soldier’s ears were bleeding and his face was beginning to blister from the burns caused by whatever the hell Junkrat had thrown at them. The soldier’s grimy face didn’t look older than 25 but there was enough hate in his eyes to last a thousand lifetimes.

A loud crack of thunder burst through the air and the Nazi dropped to the ground, half of his head missing and his helmet rolling on the ground uselessly.

His eyes widened in awe, McCree and Reyes laughing beside him.

“Guess they don’t call her Widowmaker for no reason.” McCree chuckled.

“Nice shot, Guillard!” Shouted Reyes. He stood, dusting off his civilian clothes Akande hadn’t noticed before. “Alright! Roll call! Sound of- “

“Help! Help me please!”

Their heads whipped around to the source of the voice, the blonde from earlier.

In her arms was Fareeha Amari, limp and lifeless, blood trickling out of several holes in her body.

* * *

_Snip. Snip. Snip._

They could hear the barking dogs just outside their window. Guard dogs chasing shadows. The bombs going off in the distance was now a constant, twisted sort of lullaby. The night sky was thick with the dark smoke billowing, puffy clouds rose from burning towns and military exhaust. It had been a long while since she had seen the moon. Fareeha wondered if the moon hid herself from the world because of the brutality humans used to tear each other apart.

_Snip. Snip. Snip._

They had made a makeshift barbershop in the kitchen. She felt like herself again, shoulder-length hair she could tuck behind her ear with minimal fuss. Lena was starting to look more like herself too, with her wild brown hair no longer poking her eyes. Although her messy hair still refused to stay down, preferring to stick out in its usual eleven different directions.

It had been nearly a week since they arrived at the ghetto and in truth, they were all going a little stir-crazy waiting for Akande to appear with reinforcements. They had decided it was best to remain in the house rather than go outside and raise suspicion. Reinhardt had been gone for a few days, tending to business, and running information back and forth. He had been looking for leads on their missing agents but to no avail.

“So, you said they’re going to load people up a month from now?” Lena asked, head bowed and stone still. Gabriel had warned her to stay still lest he accidentally clip her earlobe.

Reinhardt sighed, “Unfortunately. They are being taken to the work camps.”

Death camps. Fareeha had heard rumblings about them on the front lines but she never dreamed anyone to be so barbaric as to herd people, innocent people, to their deaths.

Reinhardt’s injuries were beginning to show signs of improvement.

“And what did you tell them when they asked what happened to your face?” Gabriel asked, craning his head to look at Lena’s hair from a different angle. He combed out a tuft of hair and continued trimming.

Reinhardt ran a massive hand through his hair, “I just told them a prisoner caught me off guard.”

_Snip. Snip. Snip._

Gabriel sighed, ruffling Lena’s hair to shake out the snippets of hair he had cut. “There. You’re all set, Oxton.” He dusted off her shoulders with a small rag.

“Thanks, boss.” Lena chirped as she hopped off the stool. She ruffled her hair, shaking out any snippets Gabriel might have missed.

Gabriel sighed again, reaching for the broom propped up against the wall behind him. He started sweeping up the small mountain of hair that had formed beneath Lena.

“Reinhardt?” Angela’s quiet voice immediately pulled Fareeha’s attention away from Gabriel. She felt the corners of her mouth pull into a small smile. Her heart fluttered when Angela returned the gesture.

“Yes, _maus_?” Reinhardt immediately stood from where he sat. Angela replied in rapid-fire German, faster than Fareeha could understand. Not that she could understand much. Angela had been teaching her bits of German here and there between chores and in exchange, Fareeha taught her some Arabic words. She really loved hearing Angela’s velvet voice speak her mother tongue. There was something endearing about it. It felt as if Angela was trying to learn a very close, very sacred part of her and the thought of it made her heart soar.

They weren’t the only two spending nearly every waking moment with each other. More than once Fareeha had stumbled out of a room, blushing and stuttering words of apology. She was always catching Amélie and Lena tangled together in various stages of undress.

Fareeha’s smile disappeared when she saw Angela beckon Reinhardt over. They left the room. She hadn’t even noticed Jesse inching his way over to her until she could smell the familiar scent of old leather and cigars.

“How do you smell like that? You’re not even wearing your usual clown clothes.” Fareeha muttered under her breath as Gabriel continued talking about Jack and Ana’s last known whereabouts. She couldn’t listen to him or else she would get the nearly irresistible urge to grab a gun and march out the door to look for her mother.

She felt Jesse shrug, “Beats me.” He was quiet for a moment before he began to pop his knuckles. A nervous tick she had picked up on. She waited in tense, unbearable, near-silence. He finally spoke,

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about some business. Lady business.”

Fareeha’s neck muscles tensed like they were made of iron coils. Jesse took a breath and nodded his head, “I think Angela is one phenomenal woman,” He began. Fareeha’s stomach churned, her instincts were screaming to walk away before the jealousy ate her alive.

But she didn’t, her feet were rooted to ground. Her hearing had tuned in on Jesse and Jesse only.

“When she ain’t running off to who knows where, she and I spend a whole lot of time together.”

_She’s with me when she runs off_

With every word that Jesse spoke, her stomach turned and twisted. Her heart was beginning to break.

“I’m fixin’ to ask her to marry me after the war is over.”

Her head whipped around to face him. He was already looking at her with an unreadable expression.

“Good for you.” Fareeha croaked out. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of the pants she was wearing. She didn’t trust her voice to stay steady.

Suddenly, Jesse grabbed her hand and yanked her away. “Sorry boss. Fareeha said she was going to help me fix something so, uh, we’re gonna fix it.”

Gabriel sighed and waved them off, “We’re done here anyway. No one else needs a haircut, right?”

She didn’t hear if anyone responded because Jesse pulled her to the exit.

Fareeha stumbled behind him as he led her down the hallway and into a random room. A bedroom and a simple one at that. The only furnishings were a bed and a single table with nothing but an unlit candle on it.

“I knew it!” He exclaimed. His eyes and his shit eating grin were brighter than she had seen them be in a very long while.

“Knew what??” Fareeha asked, genuinely confused.

“You’ve got feelings for her, dontcha?”

Fareeha’s guard immediately flew up, “That is a serious accusation, Jesse McCree.”

Jesse had enough sense to tone his excitement down. He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m not accusing you of nothing, darling.”

They sat in tense silence before Jesse spoke again, “I see how you look at her. Hell, I would look at her too if I swung that way, but I don’t.”

It took a moment for the words to sink into Fareeha’s anxious mind.

“Wait.” She cocked her head. Jesse nodded.

“Even if I wasn’t like this, I would never betray you like that. You’re my family. Family don’t leave you behind to nibble on dust.”

Fareeha sat down on the bed and motioned for Jesse to do the same. She sighed before speaking,

“Lena and Amélie are like us. They love each other so fiercely and I never thought I would feel that way about anyone. Not in this lifetime.” She took a breath, “When Angela is around, when she speaks to me, I feel like my heart is going to run away from me. Perhaps it has. Perhaps it’s found a home in her.”

She chuckled softly, “But what hope do I have? She doesn’t feel the same for me.” She looked at Jesse, tears welling up in her eyes.

A floorboard creaked, and their heads shot up to find Angela standing in the doorway. Fareeha’s mouth dropped open in horror.

Jesse stood, standing protectively over Fareeha, “How much of that did you hea-?”

Gabriel’s thundering footsteps interrupted Jesse before he could finish. Gabriel stopped behind Angela, red-faced and panting. “They’re coming! They’re rounding everyone up to take to the work camps! Guillard says we have ten minutes before they kick this door down! Grab your shit and _MOVE_!”

He ran down the hall toward his own room, presumably to grab his guns.

“I thought Reinhardt said that wasn’t going to happen until next month!” Fareeha mumbled. Her brain was slow to process the gravity of the situation. Thankfully, Jesse pulled her out of her daze.

“Doesn’t matter we have to move.” Jesse’s voice was steady. Fareeha saw his eyes change from caring warmth to murderous apathy. She half wondered how her eyes changed before she had to kill.

He was out the door before she could even stand. She was alone with Angela. Slowly, she stood. She felt her body move without direction. Fareeha felt cold. Near lifeless.

She was nearly out the door when a warm hand anchored her back to her body. Angela’s hand on her arm was soft. Pleading.

“Fareeha, I-”

Gabriel came up behind Angela, a light sheen of sweat covering his face, “Did you not fucking hear me?? Let’s go, _MOVE IT!”_

Fareeha pulled herself from Angela’s grip and ran to back upstairs to her makeshift bedroom she shared with Zaryanova, who was already outfitted for battle. She was the only one in uniform. Everyone else had to make do with civilian clothes. Which was fine. It didn’t matter to Fareeha much what clothes she wore, bullets would go through anything she wore.

“Are you ready?” Zaryanova seemed almost excited for the bullets to start flying.

Fareeha nodded her head, silently shoving ammunition into her pockets and into a small bag one of the children had given her when they first arrived. Her hands no longer shook like they did when the war start but the sense of dread never left her side and never seemed to lessen.

In the blink of an eye, she was down stairs and wondering how it was she missed an entire chunk of time.

“Alright. The truck is ready for us. We leave out the back door.” Gabriel was by the kitchen door where they had been relaxing just moments before.

“What about the civilians?” Fareeha felt herself asking.

They all looked at Gabriel Reyes, who refused to meet their gazes, “They are not our priority.”

Angela gasped behind Fareeha and Reinhardt immediately stepped forward, Starling Fareeha. she hadn’t noticed him enter the crowded living room. “You cannot leave these people behind! They are innocent, and they will be slaughtered!” He bellowed in rage.

“Please don’t leave my people behind to die, Captain.” Angela’s cheeks were streaked with silent tears of desperation.

“This isn’t what we are here for.”

“Damn you, Reyes! Jack wouldn’t leave these people behind!” Jesse shouted.

“Well Jack isn’t here, McCree!” Gabriel yelled back.

Fareeha snapped back into her back into her body like a rubber band. It was a lesson hard learned with her old squad. A teammate died, and she learned the value of a person over an objective. She puffed her chest out in defiance, “I will not follow a leader who willingly sacrifices people for a mission.”

“I won’t hesitate to report you for insubordination, Amari. I don’t give a shit who your mother is.”

“You’ll have to write me up too, Cap.” Lena moved from her spot next to Amélie to stand next to Fareeha.

There were murmurs of assent among them, each soldier standing a little taller.

“Fine.” Gabriel shook his head and turned on his heel, “I’ll save them myself.” The sound of the back-door slamming resonated through the house.

They stood in silence for a moment. Lena turned to face Amélie, “Some help you are, love.”

Amélie simply shrugged, “The carrots are cooked. What’s the plan, Captain Amari?”

She sighed, her eyes fluttering closed.

_What would my mother do?_

Another beat passed before Captain Amari’s eyes flew open.

“Guillard, take your position on the roof fire a shot when they’re in range. Wilhelm help them round up the people from the other buildings and Oxton, get your uniform. Help him. Drive them to the outpost near the border. Wait for us to join you. Zaryanova, McCree, you’re with me. Move it!”

They took their positions, Lena changed without delay in front of them. She followed after Reinhardt out the door and into the night.

“What about me?” Angela spoke softly, her nose red from crying. Fareeha blanked out before shaking her head.

“Stay with the civilians. Keep order. When the trucks come, load them in.” Fareeha kneeled and pulled a pistol out from it’s holster on her ankle. She looked up at Angela before grabbing her hand and gently tucking the gun into her palm, “Shoot the driver and follow Reinhardt and Lena. They’ll know where to go.” She paused for a moment before pulling a map out of her messenger bag, “Here is a map of the outpost just in case you get separated from them.

She stood. Angela looked up at her and for a moment, things were calm. There was no war. No pain. No threat of death.

“Fareeh-”

A shot cracked through the air just outside their door and Fareeha jolted into action. “Let’s move!”

Moments later, a Nazi soldier knocked their door down, pistol aimed at nothing. McCree fired, and he dropped dead before he could say a word. Fareeha’s heart began to speed, her blood felt too hot, muscles too cramped.

Like a coil under far too much pressure, she burst through the broken door hanging off the hinges and out into the street. She was immediately met with a hail of gun fire which she narrowly dodged. There were two trucks parked on the other side of the street with only a couple of foot soldiers. She saw one with a submachine gun and her blood ran cold.

Amélie’s rifle echoed through the night, a comforting sound. A soldier fell dead to the ground.

One of them shouted, _“Scharfschütze.”_ And the rest aimed their guns up towards the roof. Panic rose in Fareeha’s chest, but she pushed it down, immediately picking them off one by one. The sound of glass shattering behind her and something tearing through the surface of her arm made her hiss. Jesse McCree was firing shots from inside the house, accidentally giving her a flesh wound. But she knew better than to turn away from the enemy.

“Sorry!” Jesse shouted from inside the house.

Zaryanova emerged from the entrance, her machine gun locked and loaded before she began emptying the clip, mowing down the enemy.

There was a moment of calm, and Fareeha swallowed her uncertainty with some difficulty.

“Alright, Angela! Let’s go!”

People from inside the house began to file out in straight lines with Angela leading them into the one of the trucks. Her voice was soothing, urging them to safety. Whimpers and soft sobbing could be heard, a familiar cacophony. Jesse crunched through the glass and came up behind Fareeha.

“Boss, maybe one of us should go with them instead. Lena and Reinhardt ain’t here yet and keeping Angela with a truck load of civvies maybe isn’t the best idea. Not when she only has a pistol.”

Fareeha pursed her lips, her heart still racing. She hated it, but he was right. She nodded her head.

“Zaryanova,” She began, “Take Angela’s place. You know the outpost I was talking about, right?”

Aleksandra nodded, “Affirmative.”

Four trucks rounded the corner at the end of the street and Fareeha’s heart sank. They would be severely outnumbered.

They could hear commands being barked in German. Fareeha’s feet felt cold, the way they did when she was scared or nervous.

But she refused to show any of it. She took a breath, the cool, night air burned her lungs and grounded her.

“Go, go, go!” She gave Zarya a push toward Angela and took her position, her own carbine rifle aimed at the driver’s seat of the first car.

The sound of tires squealing away brought a modicum of relief to her. She could hear Angela running to Jesse, who ushered her into the safety of their safe house.

A small part of her was afraid to die. A much bigger part embraced and accepted the possibility.

She saw a familiar mane of white hair in the and her finger eased off the trigger. She watched as the vehicle slowed and cruised to a stop. The trucks behind followed suit and Reinhardt Wilhelm emerged. He waltzed to the front of his truck, pulling out a pistol and aiming it at Fareeha. Her heart jumped back to her throat, but she stood stock still, eyes trained intently on the foot soldiers taking positions.

“ _Bereit_!” He shouted. The infantry took aim.

“ _Ziel!_ ” Their weapons clicked as they were loaded and Fareeha nearly closed her eyes. If she had, she would have missed one of the soldiers yanking off their hat and pulling out another pistol.

Lena Oxton fired off at lightning speed, her bullets spraying brain matter onto the street. Reinhardt aimed his own gun at the soldier closest to him and emptied his clip.

“Cheers, love!” Lena smiled, her face speckled with blood, an unsettling image, “The cavalry is here!”

Reinhardt began to laugh. They began to walk toward their team, leaving Fareeha to watch in horror as two of the fallen rose, rage coloring their faces. She lifted her rifle to eye level and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. Her gun was jammed.

They took aim and Fareeha wanted to scream, to stop what was about to happen. She watched helplessly, knowing the scene before her would haunt her dreams for as long as she lived.

A dark figure landed in front of the enemy. Two shotguns drawn and aimed at point blank range.

Their heads were blown clean off by Gabriel Reyes.

“Death walks among you.” He snarled. Gabriel stalked toward them, brain matter splattered onto the front of his dark shirt.

They sat dumbfounded.

“What’s the plan,” He paused, “Captain?”

“Zaryanova already drove off with one truck of civilians. I need Wilhelm to drive to the outpost. Oxton too.” Fareeha’s eyes darted to Angela, hiding in the doorway.

Gabriel sighed, “I still think this is a mistake.”

Fareeha bit her lip, nodding, “I know.”

For another few moments of peace, they loaded more people from the next building over onto the vehicles.

“There is one last platoon remaining. They are going to do one last sweep of the area before they leave this place.” Reinhardt fiddled with a cufflink on his coat. Fareeha could tell there was something on his mind. She and Gabriel stood silently, waiting for him to say something.

“I could not save everyone,” Reinhardt bowed his head in shame, “A few got away. But on the other side of town there was a pocket of Resistance fighters. If it were not for them, many more would have been lost.”

“You did what you could.” Gabriel muttered, “Get out of here before the reinforcements come.”

Reinhardt nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat. Fareeha’s gaze caught movement and looked just in time to see Lena give a sad, devastated look to the sky.

_No, not the sky. The roof._

Lena was saying goodbye to Amélie and Fareeha’s heart broke for them. But this was war. There was no time for such sentimentality. She watched as Lena tore her gaze away and fixed her stare onto the road before her. Slowly, she pulled out and away into the night.

They moved further down the street. Closer to the abandoned trucks. There were four total, two on each side. The cobble stone streets were painted with crimson spatters and little rivers of blood flowed between the cracks. Overhead, Fareeha could hear Amélie causing the shingles on the roof clatter under her weight. She was thankful they had such a skilled shooter on their side. The enemy would never know what hit them.

“Alright. I think that’s everyone. Shall we skedaddle?” McCree kicked the boot of a dead soldier.

Fareeha nodded.

“Wait!” Angela gripped Fareeha’s shoulder, “Be quiet for a second, please.”

They stopped moving, except for Amélie on the roof.

“Darlin’, that’s just our Widowmaker on the roo-“

“No, not her.” Angela hissed.

“Guillard!” Gabriel shouted up at the sky.

 _“Oui?”_ a voice shouted back from the darkness.

“Hold your position!”

They stood still once more, nothing but the wind tangling her fingers through their hair. Fareeha was about to give a command when she heard it.

A soft whimper behind the door across the street from them.

“Reyes, stay with Angela. McCree with me.” She whispered.

Guns drawn, they carefully and quietly made their way to the entrance. They had been in so many battles together, they were completely in sync. They crouched by the door. They shared a look before nodding. With one hand Jesse turned the handle and pushed it open. Fareeha stormed in, gun raised and prepared to shoot.

She was met with several pairs of eyes looking at her in fear. McCree was behind her like a shadow and she quickly reached for his gun, “Stop.”

His heavy breathing subsided once he processed the situation.

“Angela!” He called out.

Her rapid footsteps came up behind them. Fareeha heard her gasp quietly. The sound made the tips of her ears burn and she put the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound. Beside her, Jesse chuckled quietly, and she elbowed him in the ribs. She cleared her throat, “Get them onto the last few trucks. Quickly.”

Angela nodded and began to speak, slowly coaxing several people to stand. Again, they filed out of the door in an orderly fashion. Fareeha wondered if it was Angela’s warm aura that kept them so calm.

Unfortunately, the sound of boots hitting the streets was drawing closer to them.

“Fuck,” Fareeha breathed, “Go! Go! Go!”

There were some screams before everything erupted into chaos. Bullets began to fly at them from the end of the street which made Fareeha's muscles tense.

Time was rushing against them.

Thankfully, Angela had managed to fill an entire truck before handing the keys to one of the men in the crowd. He nodded, listening intently before clammering into the truck and starting the engine. He immediately ducked under the cover of the dashboard and Angela began loading the truck behind that one with people. they huddled close to each other and Amélie’s rifle began to sing once more. She was death from above.

“Reyes! Take point! McCree, back him up!” Fareeha ran to Angela’s side, firing off shots at the enemy, “I’ll protect you, just get them in. Tell the other driver to drive down to the entrance and drive about a mile down the road. There is a clearing behind the treeline. We’ll meet up there.”

Fareeha felled another enemy soldier that was getting too close for comfort. A bullet whizzed past them and shattered the mirror on the lefthand side of the truck.

There was a loud, earth shattering boom from what sounded like the front gate. The captain of the enemy platoon gave an order and half of his troops retreated to the entrance.

Although there were significantly less troops to worry about, it was still too much. Perhaps they would die there, perhaps not.

Something clinked and clattered to the ground next to Reyes and McCree.

“Grenade!” McCree shouted and ducked for cover behind one of the abandoned trucks. The pile of bodies from earlier was at Reyes’ feet, as was the grenade.

Reyes flew into action, swinging his leg back and kicking it back toward the enemy. Unfortunately, his aim was off and it exploded into the side of a building which sent a hail of metal and stone flying back towards him. His face was covered in scrapes and cuts as a consequence, but he dove back for cover next to Jesse as if it never happened.

_His adrenaline must be running as well._

Her mind wandered to Angela behind her. Suddenly, a feeling of hopelessness overtook her. A stronger sense of dread settled into her stomach.

_We’re going to die here._

Fareeha couldn’t bear the thought of Angela joining them amongst the dead. Without looking back, she began to shout over the din of battle.

“Angela, get out of here. Take the keys,” Fareeha kept firing, counting in her head how many bullets she had left until she needed to reload.

She only counted three more shots, “Follow the map.”

There was silence behind her save for the clamoring of people climbing up onto the truck bed.

Angela would be safe. She would drive away and live a long, full life.

Someone’s firm hand grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. Angela’s cool, strong hands tangled themselves into her hair and pulled her down closer.

Their lips crashed together in the most ungraceful of ways.

It was messy. Uncoordinated. Surprising. Full of fire.

Fareeha’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline in surprise and it felt like her heart had taken up residence somewhere far from her body. Angela’s lips were so much softer than she had imagined. Perhaps it was her adrenaline, perhaps it was the kiss, but in that moment, she felt invincible, infinite.

Angela began to pull away, but Fareeha hooked her arm behind her and pulled her in for another kiss. This one was softer and quicker. It had to be. But Fareeha wanted one last taste of heaven just in case she…

“I can’t drive.” Angela giggled. It seemed incredible, that they would smile at a moment like this.

Fareeha’s laugh was cut short by another bullet ripping through the canvas tarp draped over the truck, “Find someone who can. Go.”

“You better come back to me, Fareeha Amari.” Angela ushered in the last few people onto the trucks. She shouted at the man in the truck in front. The tires screeched as he sped away into safety. Angela grabbed a woman and led her around to the driver’s side.

She fired her last few shot’s at the enemy, who had enough sense to duck behind cover.

Fareeha’s gun clicked, completely out of bullets. She focused all her energy into reloading her gun, not feeling her shirt shift in odd places. She heard a loud, unfamiliar voice shout into the night, “FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

She watched in horror as a scraggly man pushed a tire lined with popped grenades and other explosives into enemy territory. It exploded, the fire nearly blinding in its brightness. She saw Akande had slid in next to Jesse and Gabriel. A body had crumpled next to them and she recognized Amélie’s handiwork.

She was about to give an order, but she felt lightheaded. She could literally feel the adrenaline oozing out of her body, sweat making her shirt stick to her body.

Except.

It wasn’t sweat. She looked down and immediately wanted to gasp in horror.

But no sound came out.

Her body had been pierced several times by bullets while she was reloading her gun. She touched two fingers to one of the holes in her body as if checking they weren’t simply an adrenaline induced hallucination.

The world spun fast and faster until her gaze settled on the sky. She felt herself collapse onto the ground. The cold, hard ground. Her mother, her father, Jesse, Lena and Amélie.

Angela. They all flashed before her rapidly closing eyes.

The familiar smell of home enveloped her in a comforting warmth.

Angela.

Her hands cradled Fareeha’s head gently and she began to scream. Fareeha couldn’t figure out what she was saying. Not that it mattered. The sound of Angela’s voice was like music for her.

 _“Come back to me. Please come back to me.”_ Someone whispered to her. Her body wouldnt let her respond.

The last thing she felt was something wet dripping onto her face. Fareeha’s eyes closed, the image of an angel burned into her mind. Her death was blissfully peaceful.

The world fell into a quiet, peaceful silence for Fareeha Amari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you trust me?
> 
>  
> 
> [hellaclassyfabandsassy](http://hellaclassyfabandsassy.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Lamb- [Wise Enough](https://youtu.be/De4lntBPTXk)


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